I SHOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER MAN

I Should Have Been a Better Man


I.
Suddenly the door swung open and revealed a darkened hall.
There was nothing standing on the other side as I lay frozen upon the bed.
Whose hand had turned the knob and pulled the door crashing to the wall?
Whose breath was so powerful to push to the fore, revealing nothing but the dead?

II.
As suddenly as it had opened wide to reveal the darkness looming there,
It shut with a slamming that most assuredly woke everyone from their sleep!
No one seemed to notice; no one here cried out into the night in fear
‘Twas only I who took note of this thing; ‘tis only I who had a secret to keep.

III.
Things moved across table tops, the mirrors cracked and rugs twirled upon the floor.
Surely my imagination was not so rich as to purchase such visions as these.
There was something here with me that had entered through that door…
Someone who knew all along; had no need of locks and even less a need of keys.

IV.
Begone! I screamed to what I could not see. Begone! With yourself and do not return!
I listened for a reply; watched for some sign of it retreating back into that dismal night.
Though my intentions were valiant and the commands given were just as stern,
That which remained hidden mocked me once again, giving me a horrible fright.

V.
What would the spirits want with me? The ghouls, the goblins, the ghosts?
Why was I the only one awake to deal with this apparition’s need of attention?
This uninvited guest entering my house and making me a reluctant and angry host
Asking for audience with the Master of the House and requiring my intervention…

VI.
Unnerved and unable to sleep, my mind wandered to prize of this day
And the beauty of the Parson’s daughter fed more than a perversion within me.
Surely the threat of being judged a whore would leave her with nothing to say
As my hands followed their obsession setting her tawdry virginity free.

V.
The small token, just a loan you understand, these hands helped themselves too,
Was never noticed missing, no one paid attention, no one watched the plate
As it was being passed from parishioner to parishioner as they prayed in their pew
Eyes closed, hands clasped, heads bowed and their backs unnaturally straight.

VI.
Was it really my fault that I made an extra dollar when the widow offered her share?
Is it my responsibility to take care of her five children or to show them some favor
When others had to work hard to pay my fees? Well that certainly would not be fair,
And the steak and female company I reward myself with was rightfully mine to savor.

VII.
And now I am jolted awake by some unappreciative soul refusing to go to grave.
I shall not be intimidated by the living much less those who have recently died!
A man deserves peace in his own house, better to remember the favors I gave
Than to take issue with the corporal world and wish me to cover my windows and hide.

VIII.
Again, I offer this question, “who comes in the dark and enters uninvited?”
Who among the dead still holds this great bitterness, this heavy grudge?
Who among mortal men seek to slander me and leave my good name blighted?
Who is anyone anywhere doing just as I, is bold enough to enter here and judge?

IX.
Perhaps the little misses the Parson’s vulnerable and precious daughter
Did not warrant an old man’s want thrust upon her, my passion became my lust.
Perhaps the Widow and her children should eat the meal rather than be led to slaughter.
I could have let the tithing plate pass a bit heavier and be deserving of my neighbor’s trust.

X.
I could have done so much better, yet I am a man with a higher need
I should have been a better man, and then perhaps my soul would be mine to save
But it never bothered me to see another suffered then fall as I watched them bleed
And now they have come to collect me and throw me screaming into my own grave.





 M TERESA CLAYTON