Soto Voce

Saintly syllables have been echoed
masking demons that gain perverse
joy from rasping at my soul.
Their claw-like appendages open
gaping wounds that leak the spirit
from me leaving me weak…….
A shadow of my former self still
I battle for they are many and I
am but one.
One who will not go quietly into
the night but who will struggle and
strain with every sinew.
I will not fall prey to the gravitational
force of their black holes disguised in
a forest of smiles.
They are but minefields in my path and
they shall be neutralized.
For my warrior spirit burns bright my
loins are girded and my blade is sharp.

© Charles Matheson