THE GREYISH MAN

scars from fights and

crushed bones from sleepless nights

I was the only soldier in that naked army

no gun no knife just blood as a trace of a dim light

the fever of fear and

the silence that does not shelter

just the noise of mangy dogs

and a distant radio playing helter skelter

who am I but the beast and the prey of my own war?

someone has already planted a cross on my door.

my back aflame and

my bowels filled with polar ice

there are many places where shots can come from

and they hit the mark, from rhinos to mice

the fear of death and

the fear of life unarmed and alone

I prayed so much for pets, gardens and games

but now I want God to turn me into a stone