I Roam

By Samuel McConochie

Canyon walls towered my sides:

Desaturated to dark, distorted, death

Countless names carved into its canvas —

Obituary listings for a fallen fraternity;

Grace gone — faith following

This tired walk — dragging, heavy desert steps

Stairs mounted by a staring silhouette,

A skeleton cloaked and shining his scythe to my soul.

“Is it time?” Bones brood to a baritone bellow,

Eyes beam — like searchlights for my surrender.

“I do not serve you.” Fog fleets from my fearful mouth —

Selfish still - I trusted in your Word.

Silent, stoic, smiling — his shadow lips did turn.

Sun-kissed clouds, a viewing bright, a vibrant rising burn.

Free, flying, formless, crying — heaven, house to home,

Watching over — awake to my coma, a hospital bed… I roam.

By Samuel McConochie