The Dark Rider - Republished for Mad Proets Society

Beneath the ash sky, trees look like dry bones
Reaching up to take hold of a sky like old stone
A stiff breeze was blowing, first out from the west
Then from the north, it continued its quest

Across the stark landscape, no creatures cried out
Utter silence through the land - no critters about
Breaking the silence, rough hooves strike the ground
Urgent pounding concussion - a startling sound

As the frothed horse gallops across the brown grass
A fantail of dust follows like smoky old glass
The dark man on the horse pushes hard like a race
Reins tight in his gloves - hat hiding his face

His eyes are in shadow, gleam like points of a star
Reflected in campfires, deserted and hard
The horse's sides heave with effort and strain
Eyes wide with fury, nostrils flaring from pain

Suddenly stopping, the horse kicks up high
Across the dead grass, head facing the sky
With practiced ease, the dark man drops down
From the saddle well worn, dusty, old and dark brown

He peers at the ground, stones, dirt and loose sand
Seeking spoor of the guilty to kill with his hand
Kneeling into the grass, his boots give a creak
The leather is stretched - no rest for a week

He touches a groove, a depression so slight
It would not gather water -  nearly invisible in light
With a glance toward the distance to a place yet unseen
He calms his good horse with a hand brown and lean

As he pulls himself upward, something bright and cold flashes
A downward quick spiral like a spray of old ashes
The knife hits the dirt, its point facing straight down
Its blade is not shiny - its surface stained brown

The dark man looks 'round and pondering the knife
He remakes a decision between death and his life
Checking his pistol, he looks at each round
He spins the smooth cylinder, taking joy from its sound

He sets face and resolve, and with a hard kick
Urges the horse forward - gives the reins a good flick

Down in the valley, a group of three men
Sit 'round their campfire and discuss where they've been

They sift through their booty, dividing it up
The loot they distribute before they can sup
A bottle of whiskey goes hand to hand
Each takes a long pull, while they squat in the sand

Then over the rise, comes death in the raw
The men stop their drinking, and stare in stunned awe
Without any warning, no words and no quarter
Three shots ring out, and blood flows there like water

One of the bandits falls hard on his back
He stares at the rider, as his view fades to black
Then the lone rider, his horse heaving still
Holsters his gun and inspects his fresh kill

He dismounts with ease and hand near his gun
Walks among corpses that lay in the sun
Stopping at one man -  he bends from the waist
Grabs up the bottle, and gives it a taste

Spitting it out - the whiskey is strong
A ribbon of brown across shadows now long
Looking across the fire's low embers
He see a small square, just as he remembers

Stooping again, watching out for the flame
The dark rider reachs out for the frame
Captured in amber - the size of a dime
Each of the small faces are frozen in time

With heaving shoulders, the rider then stumbles
Gripping hard the frame, to the ground he then crumbles
With a cry to the heavens, the tears on his face
A father calls out for his family displaced

Time passes quite cruelly, as embers then die
The dark rider kneels with tears that won't dry
The sun is now gone, color fading to black
The dark rider stands and grabs up a sack

His precious possessions, all of his memories now dust
To return to his cabin, he knows that he must
Walking slowly with pain, like a man just been beaten
The rider coughs gently from the dust he has eaten

His horse stands there waiting, cautiously eating the grass
Eying the dark rider during the time that has passed
The dark rider puts his strong hand on a haunch
The horse gives a shiver as if ready to launch

Mounting the horse, the rider looks 'round
His eyes are still focused on the men on the ground
With a flick of his hands, he turns his good horse
To return over ground - to retrace his past course

As the stars shine now brightly, as the earth slowly turned
The dark rider heads toward his home, black and burned
To the place of his dreams, the source of his life
The home of his children, and their mother, his wife

Empty and ashes, the homestead will be
But the men who rode rampant have paid their dread fee
As he slowly retraces his trail in the dark
He sees the dropped blade in the ground brown and stark

He slows down his horse and looks at the knife
Still stained with the blood of his kids and his wife
From somewhere nearby, in a place that's unseen
An owl calls out loudly, its cry cruel and keen

Revenge is a path, both dusty and stark
It changes good men into beings of dark
No man knows his path before it is taken
To seek his lone peace, to correct when mistaken

In trade for three deaths, three more have been paid
If only his anger and his hand had been staid
Because all the blood and anger and pain
Did not return him his family, still slain

Doomed for his actions, its as clear as a bell
He's lost his family, now he's a killer as well.