Wonderfully Awful Circumstance

By Owen Andersen

Shadows, slipping and shifting

Paint pictures so riveting

Like puppets, they dance and they prance

The light; their tempo—watch it advance

What wonderfully awful circumstance

Here comes thumping and bumping

Every step: board-belumping

Like angry galumphing, they grow louder and nearer

Fury; their tempo—hear it ever-clearer

The door handle turns

My stomach churns

Like growing fire; watch as it burns

Heartbeat; the flame’s tempo, it never downturns

Down by my heels, my heart sojourns 

Now, a clash and a bash

Fire to ash

Like a candlelight douse and dash

The tempo; gone in a flash

The door; a gaping gash

A shriek, shallow and bleak

A wrathful wreak 

Like throwing stones at a grosbeak

Two birds, one stone, 

Shall my role be shone?

The rock, the bird, the hand, which must atone?

Questioning, a rising shepard’s tone

Just perchance, 

I thought this happenstance—

A strident lance

A horrid stance 

What wonderfully awful circumstance