Ferryman

[Snowbells]

Death has been too much maligned;
to tell the truth, him I do not fear,
but the human hand that can
and will take sweet life from me
makes me glance to side and rear

Once I saw Charon, the Ferryman
who stared at me through hollow
eyes. Wet jungle soil absorbed the faint
thud that a dud grenade would make

He spoke to me through stained
and broken teeth: “Go on, soldier,
I’ll spare your life this once, but we
shall meet again, most certainly.”

Now aches and other maladies set in,
and I know those are the harbingers
of that friend who is to come.