Lynching Tree Voice

I’ve been thinking ancient thoughts tonight.
The hours, swindled from the moon-host’s brim
The tattle tail stains under my eyes
Have their own stories of lacy veil to spin.

Stretching, straining, loping over crusty ground
Scattering imps, and elves, and toads un-naturally.
Void is the white face, and the cave of gray and brown
That hide the truth, I search out, then, forever flee.

Those littlest hours, forever hours, yet they too did pass
And when I grow too old to speak
The old oak, which once on innocent blood did lap
Will weep, dripping cold gruesome liquid necklaces, reminiscently

The tired sod and moss-covered stones remain the same
And cleanse and cradle that which lies beneath.
And I’m once again preceding thought – to or from, I can’t say
Any reveal, might never allow me to float free.

Heart-lynchings are perpetuated, where people hate
That which they fear, envy or that threatens their pride.
Darkness can consume both captor and prey.
When evil stalks - change your direction - and change your why.