R F Salazar-Nader

Odes to the Poet R F Salazar-Nader

The Ancient Wound My poor, poor baby
I see the fear in your eyes
I think to myself maybe
You've heard one too many lies I know you'll resist
And you'll kick and you'll thrash
As I grab at your wrist
And your face turns to ash But I'll tug at your arm
And I'll ask you to wake
Cause I've seen so much harm
And through your heart there's a stake As if claimed by some crime
In some unfortunate time
But I'm loath to remove it
For I know it won't sooth it That's why to you I beseech
With my deeds and my speech
That dreaded implement to reach
And to throw and to lose it Why I have care
For that I've no answer
But in your eyes, lies despair
And I've seen it spread like a cancer I've seen noblest of souls
To this cancer succumb
As they land on life's shoals
Without dignity or aplomb So my sweet darling
I grab at your wrist
And with force and a snarling
I give it a twist And you'll kick and you'll scratch
And you'll tear my two eyes out
And you'll run to a room made of thatch
That you call your own hideout But I'll blow, just a little
And down it will come
You'll be there in the middle
Quaking, and shivering, and some And you'll feel yourself hate me
For the care that I take
But it won't deflate me
I'll be glad you're awake For from this ordeal
You'll see blood and see pain
And you'll know that it's real
And as common as rain After all, that's what happened to me.