The Unfinished Conversation

"The Error of your ways, O you lesser mortals!"

He scorns me, his eyes burning on my face

"What quick tongue you have, O sly craftsman!"

I sit, clammed up, unable to respond,

Whenceupon he looks at the hills, bearing dark clouds

rumbles being heard from afar, the land tight with expectations.

"What say thou, if I may ask,

for such an iniquity, for such a transgression?

speak, mortal man, speak"

My mind is numbed, my throat is parched

The raindrops. The patter. Flowing stream.

"Speak, let the rain wash away and cleanse 

the land. Unchain your mind, let your tongue speak

ethos or anathema for it to be washed by the flowing stream;

Now SPEAK!"

Upon which I ventured:

"What should I say, if not what will

Stir the hornet's nest:

What shall I say of myself in your presence

If not stoking the embers of your wrath?"

It rained ever more. I saw flowing debris flowing by,

Torrent, deluge

I lifted my eyes to beseech,

But he was gone!

C) Lorot Salem 2011