Jack Straker – Doubt

At last that lofty garden is in sight ? I’ve sought it out as water they divine. Enchanted by the dazzling of that light And promises of winters so benign.
I rare upon the straightened path have crossed As unrepentant I performed ablutions; But what is found is better than when lost ? The living, breathing truth of absolutions.

Yet too-familiar voices me accost; I’ve wandered to the talons’ retributions. Hyenas round me cachinnate cabossed? Again, I bear the maelstrom’s harsh volutions.

Now forces here could crush this neophyte, Salvation may be thwarted – hers or mine; As swans to ducklings morph with gathering night, Uprooted, cursed, we wither on the vine.