the pregnant moon
has birthed the darkest hours
before aurora rises they pursue
the creatures of the night
hiding from the light
innocents hounded
the cliff’s edge cloaked
terror’s vicious fangs
seize their necks
blood flows
hot and quick
to stain the scorched earth
that once was verdant
lush with fruit ripe and ready
for plucking from vines and heavy limbs
Trees barren in the end times
monsters rule the dispossessed
God has forsaken them
redemption promised has been revoked
how many chances can a deity proclaim
the story be rewritten? Book burned, vandalized
words twisted, ideal clearly stated now revised
to suit the manipulators
Wow! This is a beautiful poem.
Thanks so much. Considering it was the 24th poem written for the marathon written and posted fifteen minutes before the 6 am deadline, I’m extremely happy with your comment. 🙂