Across the Sky


Lighting whipped across the sky,
Splitting like a serpent's tongue,
And claps of thunder rolled on by,
Echoing sadness from a song unsung.

Along the winding path of death,
My horse is racing fast,
To escape my captor's savage threat,
I'll gladly breathe my last.

The path is growing markedly steep,
With rocks and prickly thorns
I grit my jaw, for I'll not weep,
To die here so forlorn.

I fear my captor's closing in,
I see his eyes of gladness,
I pray, Oh God, forgive his sin,
For what I know is madness.

I look ahead, there's only sky,
Or Hell's canyon far below.
I kick my horse, for we must fly,
'Tis the only way I know.

by Sharon Frye