Bitter Air

Breathe not in the bitter air;

Inhaling unwholesome suspiciousness

Of those that walk among us,

Beyond us, beside us, inside us,

Spreading only their sweetened viciousness.

 

Flavored to taste with martyr’s blood

And the breath of innocent babes.

Walk not the darkened path of ghosts,

Even they that walk in supple flesh,

At end in their souls but long still in days.

 

Sweetly do they often speak in whispers

As soft as cotton; carefree like ocean waves.

Though in mouths of blackened sin they do hide them well

Diseased, wizened words; tongues of blackened iron

To slash those wizened; for unholy agendas to make a way.

 

And soft cries, one by one,

From those that stray from the path of the moon,

Walking, still, in the noontime sun.

Cries that cut not through our world’s despair:

“Breathe not in the bitter air!”

 

©T.A.Rogers

  20071014