And I Shall Rest
#2 of poetry
You came upon the campfire by the crossroads long after sunset. It didn't look like the folk around it knew eachother, and and if anybody had any objections when you sat down, they kept em to themselves.
You were tired enough that you were half asleep the second you were off your feet, but somebody passed you a cup of broth (tasted like it had a shot of whiskey in it) and somebody else, the real thin rat, had pulled out a guitar, and somebody else, the wolf with the funny teeth, you think, had pulled out some kinda stubby whistle, and everyone else seemed to know the tune they were playing.
You coulda sworn they sang it all night, but that was probably just the song bleeding into your dreams.
When you woke in, the sun was just up. The fire was cold. They'd all moved on, no way to tell what direction, or directions more likely. But the song kept playing in your head, and when you got distracted in the back of your mouth, all day. And it made the steps feel just a little lighter.
Sun going down. And I am far from home.
Sun going down. And I'm out there alone.
On the roads, I'm one more weary soul
Searching for some place where I'll be whole.
With my loaded backbone bending
And the pain jolts up my arm.
I will reach for rest from grieving
And I shall be free from harm.
Nobody here. And I have lost the light.
Nobody here, in all this land of night.
If I disappear, if this is my time to go,
There's nobody here who would ever know.
When my mind is drowned in shadows
And the skies are low and drear.
I will reach for rest from grieving,
And I shall be free from fear.
There's no land, that I may call my own.
There's no road, that's gonna take me home.
And there's an ache, in weary feet it starts,
And there's no cure once it has reached the heart.
But when my eyes turn sunsetward
And I no more hope in vain,
I will reach for rest from grieving
And I shall be free from pain.
Sun going down. And that is what it do.
Sun going down. And I am going down too.
I'm battered and worn. But I will not forget,
Sun going down, but it aint down yet.
I may be tired and weary,
And a cold wind chilling me,
But I will reach for rest from grieving
And I shall at last be free.