The Claiming

- jan-u-wine
It didn't hurt,
you know.....
at least, not in any way
I can name
with words.
Yet name it I must,
find words
where there are none.
It was as if I were not there.
Even now,
my mind
will not look behind the door
of the after-moment,
and see what went before.
I suppose that means
was not there.
terrible sound
and visions
that fall
from my mind alone
are the only memories
that stir.
You see,
It made my mouth
say those words.
I did not claim It.
At the last,
as It had always
It claimed me.
Like a rope,
drawn too tightly,
too often upon
sharp-cornered rock,
the fibres of my
being parted,
fell away to nothing.   
My own shadow
black nightmare
upon the wall,
like the will that held
my body,    
by the furious intent
of flame.
The small part of me
that remained
twisted and cried
in a darkened corner
of my mind.
In a moment,
even that,
I knew,
would be gone.

I would never
know the fullness
of my failure.
How many days -
how many
I waited for death,
looked for it -
wished for it.   
I had not thought
that this
might be the manner
of it.
I wonder how long
my body
might go on
when the small voice
which is me
has left.
if It wills,
I suppose.    
It grows even blacker
within the confines
of my mind:
Even here, Its shadow hovers,
grows large.
It knows.
It is coming for me.
It does not lie anymore,
and whisper that I shall
know peace.
There will be no golden beauty
to wrap my dreams about.
It is here.
As the man of Gondor
I beg.
Oddly, my last thought is of him:
I wonder, in this terror,
if I shall see him soon,
or if even the promise of Light beyond
death is devoured
by evil.
I do not deserve the keeping of that Promise
in any case.
I have delivered my world to consuming night.
I know....
I know who
I am…..
what I am:
Frodo Baggins,
simple Hobbit of the Shire.
My knees bend upon heated,
cutting rock,
my hand.....   
There is blood upon my hand.
Blood and the stark whiteness
of blunt-ragged bone.
Nothing else.
No dragging weight about the curve
of my neck,
no voice caressing me,
driving me,
pushing me to madness.
Only the final echo
of a scream
within the close walls
of the chamber.


I do not know.
I know that soon,
I shall be no more…

know only darkness.
It is well.
This will be sweet darkness,
fed by peace and unborn
He is here…

I remember…..

I know him
and he,
It is all I would ask,
(too much, I know),
all I would ask…

for us to end,
as we began,
He takes my hand.

He is asking me if it hurts.
Not in any way I can name
with words,
my Sam.