Dark Passenger

The elders built a tomb of light to cage my gasping soul,
With incense thick as winding sheets and bells that slowly toll.
Upon the seventh of January, the candles scorched the air,
While May bore Saint George’s name, a whisper everywhere.

They draped a shroud of “gentle-good” across my restless frame,
To mask the static in my blood, to smother my true name.
„Be honest, child, be mild“, they cried, „lest neighbors cast a stone“
But even then, a darker seed within my heart was sown.

A dissonance began to pulse, a black and rhythmic tide,
A hunger for the hidden truths that gilded scriptures hide.
While others feared the Bogeyman, I sought his ragged breath,
Tracing jagged architecture in the labyrinth of death.

I studied minds the world called beasts, the killers in the dark,
To find within their fractured depths a cold, yet kindred spark.
For myth and witchcraft were no tales, no stories on a shelf,
But mirrors held to catch the light of my distorted self.

I tasted death in every breath, a sharp, metallic wine,
And found the wrongness in my veins to be a sacred sign.
The myths of old, those cruel, dark fates. spoke truer than the tongue
Of any hollow lullaby the village choir had sung.

No silver chord nor melody could draw my spirit near,
For sweetness was a cloying sound that grated on my ear.
But thunder, that heavy drum, spoke language sharp and clear,
It beat against my ribs until it drowned the hymns of fear.

There is a darkness in us all, a coiled and ancient vine,
But most will prune its tendrils back to keep their trellis fine.
I let it wrap around my heart, I let it claim the bone,
Until the silence they had feared became my only throne.

It breathes with me, it moves in me, a passenger unseen,
Its whispers curl around my mind, both curse and solace keen.
It teaches me the sacred art of blood and shadowed rite,
And keeps me warm within the chill of every endless night.

Reviews

[Michael Sun Bear]

Milena, you know I’m a fan but WOW this poem is extra special, just brilliantly written. You live and write in a world that scares the hell out of me, but I love it. I am going to save this to savor again and again.

[Milena Grubor]

Thank you, dear friend.