Curved Ball

The curved ball

buoys silent in the harbour

past the mooring and

the scene a few moons past

when dawn broke.

A fist-fight silvery silhouetted blades

touching neck, searing cloth

passing from innocence to guilty

a train wreck.

 

The curved ball

reminds us of the fall,

our part, their part,

the cleansing, the mending

the rending.

Curved to confuse,

devil’s rouse, torment hell-sent

deliver to the innocent

punishment for the guilty.

 

The curved ball

the back seat driver,

the friend you need to lose

the one you should accuse,

can never trust.

Only Spiritual shield can counter

flaming arrows splintering forth the ball,

your wall of isolation offered no protection against a

wonderfully futile world where nihilism reigns.

 

RMEMME (c) 2017

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