Killing Place

Image credit:

Image credit:

These streets beyond are narrow, dark
Their lights wink with a dying grace
Within the perimeter of the park
They come to find the killing place

Their hooded garb and blackened cloaks
Hide centuries of deep regret
You hear the music, see the smoke
The blood-red loss you can’t forget

Yet none may speak the reason why
The ritual repeatsย once more
And any drivers passing by
Forget what they came looking for

The moon is hung with ancient shame
By morning light there is no trace
Of practices too dark to name
They found within the killing place

(c) Helen Valentina 2014, All Rights Reserved

About Helen

I'm drawn to blogging as a way to share ideas and consider what makes us who we are. Whether it's in our working life or our creativity, expression is a means to connect.
This entry was posted in Fire, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to Killing Place

  1. With all the light illuminating in this photo you wrote a dark tale of a poem. Very nice.

  2. Brilliant, to me this one speaks of secrets hidden in plain sight, no one dares look too closely

  3. Skye says:

    Very nice, Sis!!! ๐Ÿ™‚

  4. nessa1313 says:

    Makes me remember why we are afraid of the dark.

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