Beyond The Quivers Shadows Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Held firmly
in the hand of man
with death upon his mind
sleek quills glistening
in moonlight's rays, spiked out
like the pastures thistles bristle

Threaded stalks
are bound tightly round
a sprig of spindling ash
whose tip is anointed
with a heart seeking point
and in its lusting for a kill will fly

From heart
to hand the will of man
into the quill-balanced arrow
thoughts do flow of line
distance, and steadiness in stand
and guiding this arrow
deep into the heart of foe

Deep in forest shadows
hide hideous forms of hate
draped in a ravens caw
as sight and aim is readied
the song of an arrows flight to wind
is taken and in a whispered moment
a beating heart is bloodied

Now the hand
of man whose will
did wrought the end
of one's flower of life this night
again firmly grips the darkened
glistening quills and pulls arrow
from the heart of soul he's taken.