(116) June 19, 2010: A Song For The Zombies

A SONG FOR THE ZOMBIES

If zombies are real and they're walking your way
With blood borne contagion to make you obey,
A Borg-like collective pursuing their prey,
Resistance is futile; they’ll catch you someday,
When your well-wielded weapons won’t hold them at bay,

When you’re down on your luck and you’re sore to the bone,
You’re not on your game, and you’re out of the zone,
The battery’s dead on your cellular phone,
And you’re hidden away in a cavern alone,
In a cold silent darkness like on one has known.

With bravery and skill, you’ve fought and endured,
For years you’ve evaded them grimly obscured
In your camo-chameleon skin undeterred,
Avoiding the virus that cannot be cured;
Now your number is up and your death is assured.

You sense them; you smell them approaching your den,
The living dead women, the living dead men,
Uncannily finding you time and again,
Empowered by what must be demons, and then—
“Dear God O dear God, please save me! Amen.”

Then into the darkness a flame He will bring,
A flame not of fire but of song—and you’ll sing,
“The vipers may bite me, the scorpions may sting,
But the venom won't harm me, it won't do a thing.
I'll stand up and walk, I'm a child of the King.”

Then standing you’ll listen, and know that they’re near,
You’ll walk to the mouth of your newest frontier,
No gun in your hand, no bludgeon, no spear,
Just armed with a song for the zombies to hear,
And you’ll walk out among them without any fear.

They’ll fall back in horror and let you go by,
You’ll pass on beyond them, as crawling they’ll cry,
And drag themselves after you not knowing why.
At the edge of a cliff you'll bid them goodbye;
They'll dive for the rocks at the bottom and die.

D. Edgar Lamp

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