The Lion and the Closet

He tied his heart up into many knots

Filled it up with empty spots and clots

Shook out all the composure and the sorrow

Leaving just a mess for all tomorrows

And then he wrapped his soul inside a scarf

Beat it up and made it into art

Cried on it to blend in all the paint

Left its odor oh so oddly faint

He sewed his mouth closed with his mother’s thread

Chewed it away leaving language dead

Punched his father’s crown into a shield

(Forgot it in the empty battlefield)

He crept upon a lion while it slept

And held it far too close up to his breast

And as it roared, he blamed it for the noise

For the thieving of God’s ‘everlasting’ joys

And as the lion cried, he made it stop

By feeding it the thrill of all his drops

And as the lion fell asleep again

He cut its heart, so it couldn’t mend

He got down on his knees and prayed above

To send him down a sign, one single dove

But when it came, it came in form of air

Leaving him as empty and as bare

He slept alone that night, as all men do

Hoping for that dream in which he flew

Not knowing what was at his closet door

(No knowing what that could be on the floor!)

As he awoke to creaks and bumps and steps

He could not find an answer, so he wept

He did not want to know what could be there

At the closet he did obdurately stare

He saw it open, but he couldn’t cry

Beneath his silken covers he did hide

Thinking only of that horrid fear

Not of that thing creeping oh so near

He wasn’t afraid, no he was not afraid!

Even though he had no help or aid

He had nothing to fear, nothing to see

(As the thing grew closer, hungrily)

He tells himself that there is nothing there

Nothing to run from and nothing to fear

Under the covers, he breathes an even breath

As it grabs his face and smothers him to death.