Call Back

The search seems never-ending,
with a thousand arrows, it seems,
flung into a dark unknown,
with the hope that at least one
shall return with a sign of life.
Difficult cannot begin to describe it,
and every person whispers at you
to have patience and to wait.
Well, waiting is killing,
and the noose is tightening slowly
as the day’s light fades away,
as one waits and stares into the abyss,
for the return of just one arrow.
The darkness beyond seems to mock,
swallowing all that one throws at it,
with no hope of a regurgitated flicker
of life-blood.
Plenty have thrown arrows at it,
and received a haloed punt
and so one waits, wringing fingers,
dabbing sweat off the forehead,
and hoping, praying, pleading
for a call back…

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