Like a Saint in Exile
all that time, side by side with summer
But like a bitter rival, a scheming shadow
I was waiting for it to die, so I could live again
And walking out my front door, in the depth of evening
I knew that for now, I’ve won.
cracked the pavement in a static of white water
While any element well civilized was swept down the ditches
I saw the first of Fall’s casualties roll along the street
And I grinned because tonight, I’m not among them.
Only Heaven could drop such Hell upon this fair city
Only I would pray for such nights like these to arrive
And when I die, my eyes had better be open
Because I haven’t lost quite yet.
No, I haven’t lost you yet.
Bombs of light exploded across the aqua-drenched clouds
As Gods of old folklore screamed in thunder to bow down
And I raised my arms above the chaos and asked for more
I tore through the puddles as though reflections could be reached
Not a rose in my mind could bring this together
Not a bottle in the world could stop me now
And if I’m reborn, in the collapse of some graveyard gutter
Know that I haven’t drowned quite yet
No, you’ll never drown me out.
So now I’m running like a saint in exile
Through the storm and out of sight
Bringing no purpose, leaving no path,
And living as though I was born to die.
—Ryan A. Pratt