A Tragedy

By Theophile Marzials [rewritten by me]

He barges down in the river.

From slimy branches, grey drips drop;
they scraggle black on a thinning sky
where smoke clouds
drizzle and fly,
To oozing waters that lounge
on scrag piles where loose cords plop,
and the shrill winds whine in
the tree top.

He barges down in the river.

And there, scudding by,
a boatman yells, 'Ahoy!
All is running, water and sky,
with the agony of war -
to stop, you die.'
Then forward he paddles
through sludge and slime,
whereby -
His head shrieks stop,
and His heart shrieks die,
and the shrill winds whine in
the tree top.

'A curse on the boatman! Ugh!'

Yet He knows, oh, He knows,
(the devil, His friend
and always His foe)
as His head shrieks stop,
and His heart shrieks die,
it is only a lie -
It is only
a lie.
One He owes the whole of His living
to.

And the shrill winds whine in
the tree top,
as He barges down in the river.