The Fossil and I (The Beckoning)
By Albert J Repicci
Stranded on this somber Isle,
No man no beast here to beguile.
I speak to fossils by the sea,
And verily they speak to me.
My words erupt with sullen tones,
And fall upon the earth like stones,
Lamenting life and all its sorrow,
With dread I face a bleak tomorrow.
In youth, if wind should cross my bow,
I’d in its face full throated plow,
Mocking those with weakened knee,
Like them, I now list to the lee.
This lonely life I do bemoan…
….Such emptiness to sup alone.
“Come to me,” the fossil said.
“Beneath the sea there’s naught to dread;
Lay thee down here by my side;
And bath thee in the coming tide.”
So peaceful and serene seemed he;
Into the deep he summoned me.
Unshod, my foot entered the sea,
The chill then, thus, awakened me.
My reticence though, piqued his ire,
Reproaching said, “Come hither sire.
How vain to need ye songs of praise,
Thy self-worth does the question raise.
Life holds no charm or hope for thee,
I pray thee sire come rest with me.”
T’was so, my will was weak and broken,
Be there truth in the word’s he’d spoken?
Then above my head did a raven fly,
Perhaps he too, had wish to die.
With mitered wing he turned apace,
And plunged toward earth as in a race,
To end his days upon the shore,
And join his brethren nevermore.
But just before he met his end,
He swept between me and friend,
Then upwards soared, his prey he clenched,
As I was from my stupor, wrenched.
From melancholy I was shaken,
By the change in path he’d taken.
T’was not his doom or mine to spy;
This Raven had no wish to die.
“Unleash me, sorcerer,” I said,
“I too have no wish to be dead.
Nor to spend eternity,
In meaningless tranquility.
Alas, no Benedictine be,
I beg, dear friend, uncloister me.
For I wish not to be undone,
Lord, wing me back to Christendom.
For sins of pride I shall atone,
…Yet live, although, I sup alone.”