THE STRANGER

Nothing holds me! 
I 
am 
Don’t know (who) 
You are veiled, shrouded, 
Yet strangely 
familiar, the voice, the steps, your hand upon my shoulder. 
Featherlight touch. A raven croaks. You are so soft. 

I walk. 
Where to? 
I want 
What? 

The moon breaks through the unusual silence of the forest. 
A rustle, what is being said in the twilight? To whom is it spoken? 
TURN BACK! FLEE! 

If I look back, I am lost. Who am I then? Whom do I believe? 
I wAID1 
Careful, you whisper into my ear, for this is not all. 
Your voice murmuring and the hairs on my arms rise. 
In this moment … 
Too late — I stagger, fall — You hesitate? 
Your softness, unbroken! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 “wAID”: intentionally written like this.