The Devils Wand

You hold it in your hands,
vibrating with power,
time,

the devil’s wand,
waved this way
and it heals,

scars fade,
the pain dwindles
like evening light.

Waved that way
and it kills like cancer,
slowly eating joy

and trust,
a skeleton of bitterness
rattling in the dark.

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I THINK this is the last of my Devil poems, at least for now. After a week of rain, the sun has returned to Vermont and my mood was lighter. This one, in fact, was hard to write, but somehow cried to be completed.

The picture was taken in Williamsburg, Virginia, years ago.

Tom