Beast of Death

The beast was mythical
some terror in the mist
only the old people
saw.

And then it happened.
The beast took his friend
a young man
in his prime,
in his glory days.

Ruthless. Savage. Sudden.

That horrible kick
left him breathless.
Left him the awful certainty
that death is not reserved for the weak
and the spent.

He will help
those more
beaten in the
attack.
A hand up.
Simple help.
A beer.
Hard tears.

He knows now the beast
rips at the living.

For the dead he hopes
the beast remains mythical
in the mist.

And that somewhere innocence remains.