REST
E. Don Harpe

There were demons inside him that gave him his power
Demons that he tried his best to control
But sometimes they escaped from his head and ran screaming
Through the jagged edged windows of his troubled soul.
So he walked the streets now and then after midnight
And searched for a stranger whose eyes he could read
And when he found someone who needed his blessing
His dagger would bring them relief.

On April the 18th he found a young lady
With needle tracks dotting her arms
So he ended the pain and the torment he saw
In her eyes when she offered her charms.
He smiled as her lifeblood spilled out on the asphalt
He watched as her struggles grew weak
He prayed when he saw her soul rise from her body
And when he left her, he left a kiss on her cheek.

On the first day of May he walked down to the boat dock
Where he watched a man sow evil seeds
By selling small bags of snowy white powder
To young men and women with habits to feed.
He followed him into an alley and left him with
Hardly a mark on his face
This time on his chest he laid a red rose bud
A red plastic rose that he stole from a grave.

For a while he quit shaving and he let his hair grow
Then one night, dressed in rags, he went down to the dock
He lay on the sidewalk in the urine and garbage
And pretended to sleep as he watched o’er the flock.
Then along came the beaters of the homeless and helpless
He watched for a moment as they played out their parts
Then as they approached him, he prayed in a whisper
For their souls and then he let his knife find their hearts.

By August the count had reached forty and seven
Who had succumbed to the prick of his blade
He walked with the angels as he fed his demons
And dwelled on the cruel trick that his God had played.
His mind had grown troubled and his doubts were many
Sometimes he pondered over his dreadful part
Sometimes he questioned but never found answers
That eased the anguish that lived in his heart.

Upon his shoulder the demon had vanished
And now a pale angel breathed words in his ear
Soft whispered words spoke of unfinished business
And promised the end to his mission was near.
He sang as he polished the sharp silver dagger
An old song from childhood he’d learned long ago
Softly and tenderly he heard the angel sing
Ye who are weary, come home.

And then one night he walked down by the river
And saw a young girl lying there
She looked familiar and there were some others
Who suddenly appeared from thin air.
One he had kissed and one held the rosebud
The same one he robbed from a grave.
They were ghosts of his victims, come calling to haunt him
And whispered that still there was one left to save.

High up the bridge he climbed as his heart raced
And his mind was at peace with his soul
Without a word, he stepped from the railing
And felt the night air fill his mouth with it’s cold.
His face felt the chill of the river as it rushed
To meet him and he closed his eyes
Perhaps in the next life he’d find some forgiveness
As he forgave all of the fallen one’s he’d helped to die.



Copyright September, 2006. E. Don Harpe