Charon is my rock
though I can't say why
Hero ferryman
lifeboat he does ply
that's how I see him
helmet on his head
a first responder
to those who are dead
living have saviors
patron saints galore
but the drowning need
a friend at the shore
lifeboat's not the word
for this charnel ark
passengers deceased
he ain't afraid of the dark
ain't afraid of nothing
prince nor principality
just keeps on vaping
through double negativity
his job's not rescue
it's too late for that
the soul finder with
searchlight on his hat
seen him depicted as
skeleton crew of one
poling his barge to
Elysian night sun
I like him in rags
coat of many hues
mama made for him?
with holes in both shoes
so many ferried
safely cross the flow
looking forward to
wherever it is I go
so many, so sure
to heaven they ride
color me less sure
grey child mystified
they say garments washed
come out white as snow
in the blood of lamb
when homeward we go
could it be we all
see what we wanna see
visions of ourselves
as we'd like to be?
maybe I'm mystic
in glass darkly see
what I know for sure
mine's a mystery
I find strange comfort
in insecurity
it's self-assurance that
destabilizes me.
does it really matter
how I start or end
just so I land in
the boat of my friend
I find peace in rags
of Captain Charon
unfamiliar safety
the girl and her boatman
cuz death's just a stop
on a long steam train
glory-bound platform
Michigan dune rain
and this is one
(the lady of Shalott is still signaling BTW. So keep tuning in to TOWR radio for updates. He rescued me, so there's hope for her.)
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