Per Cod

SORROW

It has happened many a time
That he stops feeling so fine
A sneaky feeling o’ hurt and pain
Creeping up from behind

The Big Man is gone;
In his place a scared boy
Sits in the corner
Or crawls up in bed
Wanting to be safe,
So sick of the fear

Salty tears run down his face
Blood on swollen knuckles
Pain meant to drive off pain
Evil to fight evil

Guilt oceans deep
Sorrow and longing;
For those lost and gone
Dear brothers and strange faces in crowds

A woman’s soft touch,
Or the bottle’s dreamless sleep
Both bring the shame of weakness,
The disgrace of having won,
Yet wishing for defeat

The demons, they say to him;
Cleanse through pain,
That you may live again:
For it is death, the Wages of Sin

Author’s Note: For my Brother, Toralf. I am starting to understand what poetry meant to you, and wish we could have shared that understanding together