Ending Rites

No, don’t sleep! I said, they come for me:

Four men on horses of treachery!

They spin the wind high and push the sea down low.

You’re awake, He said, at last;

Have you read those voices of the past?

Your last, I said, those words;

Listed on pages and protected by sages…

Who told me those travels were not to be heard?

Don’t fear, he said, there’s a fix;

They tell me it hangs on the crucifix.

Brenda Fabig

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