Harvest
You are invited,
nay commanded
to the starring role.
Come as you are.
You are the main attraction,
you are the V.I.P.
Yours was the flashing light,
the penetrating siren overture,
the abandoned kiss of life.
Even now the props are being prepared,
dates confirmed with minor players,
invitations written,
box last-lacquered,
handles polished,
name embossed.
Soon,
shouldered like a football hero
at some final final,
you will go alone
to drink the fire
when the curtain closes.
You are invited,
nay commanded
to the starring role.
Come as you are.
You are the main attraction,
you are the V.I.P.
Yours was the flashing light,
the penetrating siren overture,
the abandoned kiss of life.
Even now the props are being prepared,
dates confirmed with minor players,
invitations written,
box last-lacquered,
handles polished,
name embossed.
Soon,
shouldered like a football hero
at some final final,
you will go alone
to drink the fire
when the curtain closes.
1 comment:
Keith,
You're poetry always awes, amazes and ministers to me. I love this poem and it just reminds me that when we feel like we're overlooked, abused and hated here it only means . . . we're not home yet!! Thanks for starting this blog. I'll put your link on mine. God Bless.
Dr Rita
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