No “Crossing” the Vampire

Hills blend into the brewing night;
this valley becomes the domain
of nocturnal creatures.
Nighthawks, owls, foxes
hunt mice; small lives.
Tonight one more predator
will drink blood--
feed on the soul. Mine.<<<<<<<<Wow, scary!

The first bite stung;
the second one still burns,
but I stand a chance
to avert the third incision
that would condemn me
to a living death.<<<<<<< Three bites necessary? Didn't know.

In the distance drones a bell,
the bell of Saint Boniface church.
It calls the faithful to prayer.
I must find refuge there. I have been
marked . . . and he is coming.

My home no longer is a safe haven;
I have no Christian artifact—and even
worse—no faith. A cross?
The church! I remember a church--
and the crossed timber; the symbol
of salvation. Where is my pride,
my skepticism; where is my insolence now? <<<<<<< There are no atheists in the trenches, comes from the Great War, right? Nicely used here!

I glance back. The dark form of the Undead
follows me, and I must hurry, flee.
Oh, he is fast! If only I could reach the church.
I will cower before the Redeemer’s cross--
seek refuge in his power.

I have wings--or so it seems;
I race the final yards; do not look back!
He is behind me; I feel the icy breath;
the fiery eyes of the hunter boring into me.

One last effort; I run with burning lungs. No door--
but I am inside the House of God. Safe!
Safe? but where is the cross with the contorted
image of the crucified Savior?
Again I hear the bell—but it is miles away—

O God! I have entered the old church,
the abandoned one. No crucifix. They had built
a new one! I curse myself, for I should have
known, but I had lost my way long time ago.
I did not care. Religion is for the old
and feeble, so said I. Oh, my lack of faith!

The Undead enters, stands behind me,
and now he grips my shoulders. And now . . .
I do not struggle but offer my throat to savage
teeth, while the distant bell tolls for me. <<<<<<Whoops! I must get out of here... "And therefore never send to know for whom the BELL tolls; it tolls for THEE" , John Donne. Yuk, thanks for wishes, Jerry, great poem!! Cheers, Syl*** aka Psyche


(Wishing you all a spooky Halloween, Jerry)

Hi Jerry,

I'm very late replying here - I've been absent for too long.

I enjoyed your poem, written in your engaging style. I find nothing to nit at all. I hope I haven't returned too late for you to read my reply.

Snow