A Brisk Walk Poem by Savannah Oakes

Midnight on a winding street
air still as the grave
no danger lurking
no signs of wake

You swagger on
gingerly to the left
then suddenly—
a hand is in your hand
hot breath against your cheek
a whisper in your ear:

“My love, my light
come lie with me.
We'll meet at great new heights
where you will be set free
from hands that bind
to a land of bliss,
so you won't but mind
as you float down the abyss.”

With no note of dissent
no sigh, no frown, nor shake
you are whisked away,
taking steady steps and deep breaths
to the hole where you shall lay.

When finally you do arrive
you're beckoned to lie down
you stumble in, burrowing
careful not to make a sound.

Morning comes, but not the sun,
Eyes search, but nothing found.
Hands grasp at dirt, nails rake on stone
at this new burial ground.

Screaming does no good
nor fight, nor will, nor pain
you are here and here for good
because doth wed the night
and the night doth betrayed.

“Away now morning light,
Farewell bitter day!
Soon we will reunite,
perhaps from inner fray.
So beat your drums,
grapple in spite,
measure your sums.
Do forget this little slight,
For tomorrow soon comes! ”

So lie down,
calm and secure
make most of this fine bed
you've dug yourself out of
time and time again.