The Church – The Mush from the Hill

How could I forget?

Sacrilege scorched

To the back of my eyelids

And I see it over and over

Every time I close my eyes

This terrible memory

Has not been lost over time

As I recall that cruel night

A night as black as pitch

And the cold, icy and biting

From my bedroom window

I could see the church on the hill

A beacon of hope standing the test of time

Now engulfed in a flaming fiery blaze

That could have come from Hell itself

The star lit sky was bright orange

While the smoke created patterns

Swirling in the wind that fanned the blaze

The structure began to fail

Stone collapsed and wood splintered

Fixated by this terrible sight

I swear I saw dark shadows

Dancing around the fire

Their gestures in celebration of

The demise of this symbol of good

Mesmerised by the moment

I could see the flames

Through the shadows

Given the illusion of

Eyes and mouths and teeth

Orange red eyes that glowed

Mouths that formed toothy grins

Menacing grins that turned

Into what looked like

Open mouthed laughter

Each gesture melding into the next

With each shape changing and

Melting into the next demonic shape

And all I could do was stand my ground

Watching this terrible event unfurl

I didn’t sleep much that night

To a young boy witnessing

Such a cruel, frightening vision

My dreams were tormented by

The shadows scratching at my window

The next morning I woke

And sprung to my window

Had I witness a terrible nightmare

No; there it was the smouldering

Scorched unholy skeleton

I quietly wept, for hope had burned to the ground

for more from Mush, click here!: https://mushfromthehill.com/

image:

Copyright © JRFC from May 2019
Image from Pixabay, modified by JRFC

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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