I followed the raven into the deep, dark forest's cowl,
stark as night,
dark as blight,
my quest my only light
to show my hopeful heart
the way ahead.

I didn't know the horror that awaited in the depths,
lurking hate,
hunger sate,
flaking my emotions
like a mincer grinds the lamb.

I only knew, with fervour's grace and passion's fortitude,
lacking might,
hard of sight,
determined not to flee,
that in this pit of blackest death
lay my life's destiny.

*****

They took her while I dreamed of heaven's bliss,
ignoring her security and my protection's shield.
They stole from me the light I'd always miss,
and guaranteed I'd meet them on the field.

I spoke goodbyes and favours called and then,
astride a wave of burning anger's vim,
I surfed the path unto their rancid den;
a flaming angel called a seraphim.

But by the time the raven called my name
and led by wing and beak to eldritch trees
my claws were blunted by the very same
accosting doubts that cause brave men to freeze:

Would any of my efforts be enough?
Would shadow demons know I was all bluff?

*****

When, finally, the raven led me to the forest's heart,
my bladder was a bulging sack,
my fingers had forgot all knack
and suddenly I knew the fear that dogged me from the start.

My pallid skin became as dust when out she cried my name.
My weapons clattered to the ground,
my teeth chattered; a horrid sound,
and then my bladder burst its banks and did my quest defame.

Her fragile form was strapped against a solid oaken slab,
her limbs were spread like eagle's wings
by nail and hemp and evil things
and every scream she spat gave them a good excuse to grab.

They stripped my helpless figure and my lover had to watch
as every hole became a goal
and every ounce of my pride stole
away into the corners of a quickly shrinking mind.

As darkness stole into the edges, vision became numb.
I let them take me every way;
as if I ever had a say
and fetid fate 'came destiny 'came me under the thumb

of demon lust and rape unjust and Hell in all but fire.
I blacked out like a mind when beat,
accepted utter, deep defeat,
and welcomed death as hopes and dreams in blackest filth expired.

*****

She tells me, sometimes,
when the mood
is perfectly serene,
the tale of how she got me out
while demons were obscene.

She tells me, sometimes,
that I was
the thing that set her free,
if not perhaps in quite the way my dreams
had promised me.

She tells me, sometimes,
and I smile
while inside waterfalls
of tears of helplessness and anger
make me feel a fool.

She tells me, sometimes,
I am brave;
her poet saviour man,
but lost is all I feel in forest's wake.

Please understand.