Hell's Gate

Tumbleweeds rolling nowhere across a wind-swept plain

Days and days of dust; not one drop of precious rain

Heat beats down from a china-blue sky devoid of cloud

All is barren to the sun in this land; no shelter shroud

A quiet solitude rules the whole of the hot, dry, desert air

No movement, no sound, could anything be living there?

No shade, no water, no plants on which one can feed

How can things survive, even a rattlesnake or the centipede?

Is this the lonesome road that leads to a devil’s paradise in hell?

Does it just get worse as one goes further down this trail?

The surroundings mark the truth, there can be no turn around

One who follows this lonely path too far can only be hell-bound

Night falls and with it blindness; I have a thirst I cannot quench

The desert wind begins to stir about; upon it rides a stench

The smell of rotting flesh; of mankind long since from this life past

There by that pile of rocks lays a man who has breathed his last

Coming closer I see his face; the ravages of the desert in full array

The buzzards and the coyotes have been here each dining on the prey

There’s not much left to bury; the human in him is long, long gone

And I have not the strength to bury him; I must struggle to move on

Staring across a moonscape horizon as the morning sun returns

I see an endless land ahead; no choices, no hills, no turns

It looks the same in all directions; one’s choices are very clear

There is no reason to go there or there; no reason to stay here

Looks like it won’t be long until the desert will have its say

My lips are cracked; my tongue is swollen; I won’t last the day

Soon the buzzards and coyotes will over my carcass fight

And I’ll join that poor soul of man I came across before daylight

My desert’s fate comes closer with each, slow, weakening step

No one will come to my aid; not a soul for miles to lend help

But I’ll not give in to death just yet; maybe further up this trail

Where I can draw that one last breath outside the gates of hell

By that pile of rocks over there, a sparkling pool of water floats

It beckons to come and drink; wash the dust from my throat

If it really is there in this God-forsaken, hellish, land of waste

Bet that I’ll drink my fill and spit the rest into the devil’s face

And from the wretched dream I suddenly am wide awake

Exhilaration and relief fill me; my soul, the devil will not take

A vivid dream driven by the excesses of life’s long trail

One last chance to stand and gaze upon the gates of hell

A love long lost; only the memories of her presence remain

Even that was not enough to wash out whiskey’s stain

Remembering her now, my heart beats fast; blood runs cold

Deep down I know the Devil has traded his whiskey for my soul

©Copyright WBrown2012. All Rights Reserved.

9 June 2012