Written On A Wall

Tales From The Eleventh Hour

Tale 1

Her hands are suddenly guided,

By a conscious not her own.

Finding their way to her abdomen,

Trying to hold something that is hardly yet there.

His words resonate within her head.

His refusal,

Damnation,

Of what they, as one, had made.

Imaginary pressure pricks at her finger tips,

Brought about by the truth,

Which she could not run away from.

At eighteen, she alone would bear the burden.

Come noon, there would be nothing to clutch.

No liability pushing at her from within.

The hour came hastily.

She walks through the doors.

Her hands tremble, not in sync with her mind,

Unable to believe that this is best.

Then stronger hands emerge,

Steadying her own.

A tear falls to the floor,

She finds she's not alone.

Inside his gaze she sees the change.

Hand in hand,

They walk back through the door.

In the eleventh hour, he chose to save a life.

Tale 2

The exile still fresh in his thoughts,

Is only enhanced with the cars passing by.

Committed to his choice,

But lost from the pride he'd felt hours before.

His father's anger was like paint,

Coating and changing the appearance of all that it touched.

He'd made his choice,

Not for his own gratification.

It was his duty, he'd accepted.

And come home, only to being forced out,

By the man who'd taught conviction.

With the bus closing in,

He squeezes the strap,

Of all that he owns now,

A green duffle bag.

Afraid that he'll die,

While fighting for freedom.

Willing to die,

If it is the cost.

Among the others who are ready to pay,

A face; unexpected, appears.

His father, who's eyes are stricken with tears.

The embrace they share is for them both.

The son's goodbye,

The father's approval.

In the eleventh hour, he let his son be a hero.

Tale 3

The resentment she felt, is numbed,

Deadened as she falls under.

Released from the shame of what's become her escape.

The drugs were never her first choice,

But the only remedy that seemed to suffice.

If she'd had another way,

If she'd been able to keep the secret..

The doubt is weaker than the nothing she becomes.

The only pain she can't run from,

Her friends condemning claim.

Now she sits alone,

Wishing her friend would come back.

Aware that she pushed her away.

Another dose of numbness saves the day.

She dances with the idea,

Of taking one too many,

Longing for her friend,

Wishing she'd understand.

She feels the final dose, warming in her hand.

Something stops its progress.

Something takes it from her palm.

Her friend,

Who's face burns with devotion.

Is stronger than the craving ever was

In the eleventh hour, she realized addiction is shattered by love.

Tale 4

He paced to and fro.

Eyes always peering down.

Meeting the stare of his own empty gaze,

From the water that calls his name.

Night hides him from the view,

Of those who could intervene.

Leaving him to make the choice,

Firm that there is no alternative.

He is a failure,

In all aspects of his life.

He's been greedy and selfish,

Wasting everyone's time.

He blocks out the faces,

Desperately needing not to see them.

Desperate.

He prays it will not hurt.

His pacing stops abruptly,

He walks slightly off the ledge.

Shutting off his heart,

Caught off guard by what's in his head.

He's is resilient.

He is hopeful.

He is willing to strive for more.

So he steps back,

Continuing slowly down the road.

In the eleventh hour, he discovers he is not ready to give up.