It begins again. I began feeling that pecking sensation and had to get back to my buzzard. No title yet, but I'm moving forward. This will be the story of random survivors rebuilding and trying to get along.
Father James still gives me the goosebumps. I expected Joe, Sam, and Valentine to be my favorite characters, but James is so much fun to write for. I get to channel my inner preacher-man.
This is just a rough draft, but I like it so far. Stay tuned. I promise to spend less time sawing, drilling, and painting and more time writing. Sometime in the spring this thing will be done. Until then:
Cathartes Aura Part Three
On glazed asphalt, the tank sits cored: slack treads
And scorched armor frame a funnel of earth
Shined like glass from the kiln. On wheels and doors,
Hoods and trunks, cars lie scattered with spent shells,
A humvee and jeep, pools of gummy blood
With clouds of fresh flies. Walls pocked from bullets.
In a meadow up the hill, six fresh graves
Hold wrapped bodies while seventeen stand stooped.
A robed man scans them with hickory eyes.
“Stand straight. You look half in the ground yourselves.”
Hands clasped on his worn leather book, James breathes,
Lifts his voice to the trees. “I see Satan
On your shoulders, hissing doom in your ears:
'You will die quick deaths, live meaningless lives,
Accomplish naught but fertilize the ground.'”
Three farm women weep together, arms hooked
and faces stern. The old woman wails, hangs
On the round man in overalls. “Forked tongues
Caress your skin, tempt you to sin. Who cares?
Live loose. This world is gone. But I see God.”
Focussed, Max watches James' brightening face
And uplifted palms. “I feel His love glow
In the comfort you offer each other.”
Al picks grease from his nails. Sam stares glossy
At shifting clouds while Val does toe-raises.
“I see Him in the union of strangers
Steadfast against intruders.” Next to Val
The bright-eyed girl lifts her heels in time, beams
At James, his shoulders now hunched, whispering:
“I sense Him so close I can feel his breath.”