The sky is bright, but gray. A hint of light
Shines, flickering, behind the clouds. Outside
The streets are silent. And a hint of night
Comes creeping slowly up these clean and wide
But not quite empty streets. A man walks by.
With eyes like death he looks from side to side
Then bellows, “Kill them all!” We hear his cry
In rooms where we’ve been locked inside for days,
But no one looks. He screams, “They have to die –
“I’ll hunt them down! I’ll kill them all!” He stays
Beneath my window for a little while
Just screaming out his challenge. These are days
When mental chaos breaks the heavy, still
And fatal silence of the city’s will.
And someone answers. Driven by his fear
Or foolish pride, he takes his stand and yells:
“You shut your mouth! Go on, get out of here!”
Then total silence reigns. In all the hells
Where we have locked ourselves, we sit and wait
To find out what the man will do. The bells
Ring out the hour. And thick with rage and hate
His voice rings out as well. “They have to die!
For wrath is coming!” Like some mindless fate
He rolls along. The echoes of his cry
Play back his words. He stalks along the street
Still shouting out his prophecy. And I
Cannot deny a certain strange appeal.
For even rage can cleanse, and wrath can heal.
Christopher Scott Thompson is 47 years old, the author of several books on historical swordsmanship as well as the Noctiviganti series of dark fantasy novels. He has been composing poetry for more than 30 years.