Over the lethe

We crashed the raping, ruinous waves
Of Acheron and the tremulous Styx,
To stand defiled before the Lethe
Memorial souls dying in our midst.

The river spewed a gelatinous rime
And buried by the jagged frost,
Filed souls drank their fill
And fell in a spiritual holocaust.

Next came I the water gaped
To dissolve my lifelong sorrow
I knelt and cupped black purulence
Drank, but rescinded my swallow.

For too much untold grief,
Lies dormant on the Lethe
Death fades no treading pain
Of the soul that draws its breath.

Etched upon the cresting cry
Stands the scar of mortal kin
My elder lying breathless
His son a trench of sin.

I surfaced from her womb,
Memories in tow
Sunken eyes, wrought with tides
Of the agony below.

I wailed for those disheartened, lost
And, harboring the vile Lethe,
I spat it on the affluent brow
Of the white deliverer’s face.