Mark Trisko

Essential requirements for resurrection

The sky fell dark on a late April afternoon

changing from a hazy blue to a steel gray full of blackness,

and the wind hastened, shaking the trees and forcing

my shoulders to hunch together. The rain came hard

and fast, sideways, and slashed my cheeks through the

upturned hood of my sweatshirt as if it was nothing, not real

but only a ghostly veil. There was no protection from

this spring reversal, from this disquieting feeling. I tried hiding

at the edge of the garage but the storm had found me and in doing so,

had sensed my fear and marked me for suffering. The attack came

more ferociously now, trying to uproot me from my shelter.

A few, decayed and unattended leaves left sitting

on the garage floor through the winter, were sucked outside

and they spun in eccentric spirals up and down the driveway,

powered by the sudden squall, and I was one with the leaves,

whirling through life without control, unseen and unassuming,

unable to decide, flowing where the wind blows fleetest,

following along unchosen. The dark clouds turned blacker

and the hackles on my neck rose to greet them. And I saw

the shadow of death with his bloody, sharp sickle flying across the sky.

Is it coming for me? I am not ready yet. It is not time

for the destruction of my body, not time for me to begin again.

After retiring recently, Mark James Trisko heard his muses yelling loudly in the night begging him to let their voices be heard. His work has appeared / is scheduled to appear in Valiant Scribe Literary Journal, Spirit Fire Review, and Amethyst Review. He currently lives in Minnesota, with his beautiful spouse of 47 years, four wonderful children and eight above-normal grandchildren.