Zoar pt 10 – a poem prelude

I travel on past the lapping lake under the smokes

That swirl, trying to reconcile what is with what

Lives as known quantities dreaming, seething

To be so well noticed and appraised, forced.

*

What holds the way through by Zoar, so many

Have wondered, the telling so small compared

To the stretched and drawn faces we thus see,

Yet I can say so far what waits this dire way…

*

Old nightmares forgotten come to the fore

Where we had done our best to be absolved

Of their casually shocking horrors, they lie

As alligators beneath stagnant waters here.

*

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