Riding the train to Mall of America. Fort Snelling National Cemetery lies to the East of the tracks. Outside the windows of the train pass monuments to the fallen brave. Stark white stone in the place of heros. Rigid rank and file, gravestones on parade in mimic  memory of a command to "Attention!"  

And there are thousands. Row after row, column upon column, they march into the distance

Until finally, I closed my eyes and listened to the rumble of the  train, wheels upon tracks, and to the conversion of a young family seated behind me as they talked about all the fun they will have at the mall. The Mall of America -- found past the tombstones, beyond the graves of the fallen brave.

in the maze of your soul I discovered the center was a beautiful garden, wild, unrulely and begging to bloom in the light of another. I have fallen in love with it and am happily lost there for eternity.

Oh fallen flower, how your colour burns more brightly ensconced upon this  weathered pew.  Fate, it seems has brought you to this resting place to soften its callus surface. Though your time left upon this crag is fleeting, your place is here and now.


©

Quilt of Shade

Sheets of shadow fold,
Knitting new inches of a heavy quilt,
Nightmares and darkness to behold,
Causing love and happiness to wilt,

A horror of neglected emotions,
Each quilted square a new scene,
Pushing darkness, going through the motions,
Scalding showers to feel clean,

To feel warmth, inside and hide,
When opening to other makes you weak,
Pushing those who tried when you cried,
Counting only self when times are bleak,

Legions in a single square,
Each color a tainted shade,
Each one a devils badge to wear,
Constant weight, the feelings begin to fade,

Emotional pain, physically twists organs and nerves,
Living in the past,
Keelhauled by life’s curves,

Dead demons drone dour,
Drawing dimming desolate soul,
Crown of ruin at the top of this tower,
Devils whisper because angels would not cajole,

Wearing a mask to conceal your tears,
Painted in humor, smiles, offered assistance,
Under, a face scarred by fears,
Escaping shadow, the only consistence,

But shadow moves faster then light,
Understanding only gets you so far,
A devils hold, precise, contrite,
Changing, becoming the scar,

Labeled empty, hollow, fuckboi, or ***,
Forgetting sides, lost in a fight,
Offered hands but screaming ‘no!’
Pushing those who seek inner sight,

In prayer you crow,
To gods, devils, one to seven,
Cold, cursed, driven in flow,
To whoever will take you to heaven,

My mind these shadows pry,
Clinging to humanity,
Under distorted static you cry,
****** by hope and insanity,

Soul slipping in peril,
Through acts of good,
But still growing feral,
Those outside claim to see, but misunderstood,

Seeing self as no hero,
Hurt on levels weighing out the helped,
Karmic scales tip zero,
Tiny wounds sown but others scalped,

Lifetime member to the order of black,
Shadows that guide the annoying fly,
Showing light, deep down desire attack,
Good intentions always leading to an early goodbye,

Only oneself to blame,
Swatting hands that offer aid,
Just another piece in the devils game,
Just another lost sinful crusade,

Giving all to save,
Reflecting,  blood soaked, in a silver mirror,
Inside ones own mind, a slave,
Suddenly you’re the one your people fear,

Why children cower under the quilt,
Hero in war begins to debauch,
Confidently pushing your responsibility and guilt,
Becoming the old villains you used to watch,