the robber is at the door…

we have locked
the doors
and
windows
pulled down
the shades
and
dimmed the lights
the madmen of yore
have returned
and
move freely
in the darkness of fear
calling out like peddlers
selling century old scapegoats
door-to-door
they promise to give back
what you never had
but always desired
if you would only
but sacrifice
the lives
and
freedoms of others
a small price
to pay
until
judgment day

my friend…

 

you sit
staring
a coffee cup
the only
warmth
you feel
memories
of unkind words
linger
the aroma
of pain
mothballed emotions
on every fiber
of your day
and still
you refuse
to air out
love’s linen
lying across
your bed
a bed
long grown cold
on one side
where
the only
voice still heard
was the promise
that was not
kept
till death
do us
part