In Nomine PatrisA Poem by Doodley
In the Name of the Father.
So cold comes the night to smite the last of day,
Oh! Suffer the little children whereupon their beds they lay;
Entombed and huddled silent under cloth mounds of last defense,
Hands clasped together in hopeful prayer while fearful heart repents.
Grim darkness petrifies their mental boundaries at the seams,
And the demons born from Beelzebub torment their sleeping dreams;
But for them there is no greater fear than the realism horror,
That comes to them cloaked in candlelight, a Nosferatu in a collar.
With creeping sinews and talons shown it invades their personal space,
And whispers with a forked tongue and a leer upon its face;
That, naughty child you must be punished for all your little sins,
Then enshrouded in protective dark it does unspeakable things.
Into and beyond the witching hour their living nightmare stays,
And manifests its evil intent in all unfathomable ways;
And only when the blinkered God from the Heavens He does send,
The virgin rays of newborn light does their ordeal finally end.
And into the dying shadows does the vampyric malevolence flee,
And leaves behind the broken child, alone, yet finally free;
Who hugs their knees into their chest and breaks into sobbing sighs,
As another portion of their innocent soul fades out and silently dies.
As this withered quill in solemn pause does halt as this poet thinks,
The tears of human sorrow infuse the potting of his inks;
And northward turns his remorseful gaze into the heavenly skies,
And with eyes ablaze with swelling rage he opens up and cries:
Where are ye Holy Shepherd? Look at the hour upon the clock!,
Make haste from your eternal slumber! Come now! Protect your flock!;
Embrace these innocents to your girth, spare them from further shame,
From the evil deeds that have been wrought in your sacred Holy name!
Yet the silence here is deafening, there are no swift replies,
No rapturous roars of vengeance shall descend from these empty skies;
And in this instant realisation does the heart sink deep like stone,
Suffer the little children shall, for the children are alone.
© 2017 Doodley
Sydney , Australia
AboutI'm an Equine Scientist undergoing an artistic Renaissance. I welcome all friend requests and am willing to read and review on a consistent basis as long as the friendship serves both our purposes... more..
People who liked this story also liked..