THE ENEMY CALLED DEATH - By Mary B. Peter

THE ENEMY CALLED DEATH

A poem by Mary Bisola Peter

I've run from the deep shadow of death
I've run from its urgency to take me beyond
Its thick and wavy breeze keeps finding me
The rain, with its powerful thunder
Does not favour me
It nearly ripped my heart out

I've run from the deep shadow of death
I've run from its need to take me home
On the road I tread
I can't help but, be watchful
If death is on my trail
For the thought of death is unpleasant

I've run from the deep shadow of death
I've run from what must come
When the wind blows
When the thunder strikes
A little shake of the earth
I can't help but fear

I've run from the deep shadow of death
I've run from the mighty one
Whose arrival is unannounced
How shall I battle thee
Thou foe of man?
Messenger from beyond

I've run from the deep shadow of death
I've run from its echoes of mockery laughter
Wherever I go
Its eyes pursue me, stabbing into my back
I feel its unending appetite
For the soul of men

I've run from the deep shadow of death
I've run from its bulging and greedy eyes
Eyes which reddened
Reddened at the mere sound of a plea
Red bulging eyes, full of rage
Rage to devour the soul of man

I've run from the deep shadow of death
I've run from its unfailing grip
Death! Whose mission is destiny
Death! Oh death!
Death! The unexpected guest

I've run from the deep shadow of death
I've run from its ungracious wrath
Its claws can not catch me
Its gaze I have run from
Until the due time
The Maker's own time....