There's a locust that lives
in the tree in the backyard
that brays all through the night
and all through the day
and I wonder if it ever rests
from its incessant name calling
and singing of melodyless songs

Does it ever feel the weight
of its inevitable death
that looms somewhere above
either in the talons of a merciless bird
or in the gentle hands of God
the hands that calls to all His creatures
telling them, whispering softly in their ears
"Your time has come, fair child
join me once again in peace."

I feel said weight
like some ominous cloud hanging above me
with thoughts morose
and feelings dark like withered tree bark
I wonder what it feels like to die
and if I'll really notice when I'm dead
or if suddenly, things will just be different
and I'll accept where I am
and who I've become.

"Be still, child.
You will never see your own fate.
These are the things kept in parchment
far away from the prying eyes
of irreverent humanity."

© J. Bernhard

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