Day 48 of 50 Poems/50 Days

The Two

I find him,
my steel beast,
my black vessel,
and we drive through the night,
searching for the woods.

We find the ancient trees standing high,
like ships tipped on the stern,
stretching for the clouds,
blackening out the stars.

The beast nuzzles against me,
but I do not scream,
I lay along its side,
as it says to me:

“I will blow the trumpet,
and carry your bones back to your first home,
back to your first God.”

“I will say to Him:
‘Give him back the fields,
swaying at sunset,
where the crops as tall as men
kept him company.'”

“They raised him as their own,
gave him the words You taught them,
showed him the length of his fingers,
showed him the strength of his arms.”

And these fields will say:
“This is our boy, our son, our king,
a man that will grow to be a century,
that will die like he started,
a child searching for his lost home.”

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