Grey Hand

by Marty J. Reep, 2012

Standing upon a ring of fire, A hand reaches forth From within the flames: A grey hand, Bony and cold Reaching forth from lifeless Sardin, Outward Toward my presence. It grasps for my garments, Connects, And tries to pull me in. I lean back, Resist, And try to shrug off The evil attempt. Grey hand does not want my cloak, Nor shirt. It seeks to draw me in To grasp my soul, Cleave it from me, And honor not the Age-old blood-bought gift That keeps me safe In times such as this. I count it well, For the hands release Signifies acknowledgement Of its own defeat. Slowly, Grey hand goes back From where it came And begs to know If there will be a different Fire-ring-stander Next time.