Julie Dickson ----- four poems

First on the Scene

Over the crest of a hill, I drove -

first glimpse through a fog-veiled light beam,

headlights illuminating a field of diamonds,

glittering the bejeweled roadway, but no…

My approach revealed broken glass, strewn,

cut-edged shatters reflecting the light.

High beams joining the moonlit sky

across a mostly barren landscape

and beyond the sea of broken glass – a car.

Transfixed, slowing almost to a stop,

my eyes moved suddenly to the tire.

How obscure, the vision straight ahead,

a spinning tire thrust into the air.

Escaping my lips, an abrupt sound, incredulous

as my mind began to grasp this scene.

The initial imagined beauty, crystalline

shimmers against the dark highway

fell away  like a fading smile.

A twisted hulk lay diagonally across my lane;

feeling a black foreboding welling up -

I parked, sensing the unfolding nightmare.

Was I asleep?

All night driving, an endless journey

etched into my thoughts like a deep chasm.

Engine finally quiet, I opened the door

and emerged into the night, listening.

A sharp sound forced my head to turn

to a lone tree by the road; I squinted to see

a wide-eyed sentinel, silhouetted against the sky.

The owl sent a mournful message.

The scene opened silently before me;

I stood unmoving, taking in the macabre.

Seconds passed as hours, powerlessness

to move or to react, I finally called out.

Hearing only the echo of my own voice,

eyes fell again on the owl, who stared,

a perceived messenger of death.    

                                           

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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Lucius

He carried a bronze, hand carved caduceus.

His long robes billowed and swayed as he walked,

though none dared utter, his name was Lucius;

the people stood in stark fear when he talked.

His fiercesome staff was far worse than a sword;

Lucius- the nobles, he held in suspense.

The power he wielded brought him reward;

from kings and bishops he sought recompense.

In dismay the monarchs plotted revenge,

the serfdom was searched, through village and town.

The king sought a champion, brave to avenge;

in secret, the plot was to bring Lucius down.

By morning the king felt relief, plan deployed.

Throughout the kingdom they heard Lucius’ cries.

In crux of passion caduceus destroyed;

the truth- a fair maiden caused Lucius’ demise.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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No Longer in Deference

Passersby in forced adulation

bowed deeply with heavy-lidded eyes;

felt his demonic representation,

heavy wool top coat worn in disguise.

Ironically, no adoration,

sought after, of course – his preference,

ridiculed by their hidden laughter,

avoided his gaze by happenstance.

And when by all certainty they learned

his inappropriate and untimely abuse;

the masses no longer in deference bowed,

now celebrate freedom from beyond his ruse.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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Walk Away

Wrenching sadness, pulled through a gaping wound -

self-inflicted, but how else might one heal from a loss?

Once exposed to light, the thing might just fade away,

whither from lack of gloom, the dark whispers of grief.

One might notice a slight curling of edges, a subtle graying

on the former blood-red, crimson scar – yes

it’s a start, a new beginning if you can take a chance,

walk away from abysmal fortitude - embrace anew.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH