Drogheda

Mist lurks among the mountains,
Hanging heavy around the stones
And seeping beneath travelers' cloaks
As they pause by a signpost.

A man steps forward, he takes in the
tangled mass of suggestions, he turns
To Drogheda
The rest shuffle behind, following the staff-less shepherd.

Clouds join with the mist and rain falls
Heavy on the damp earth
The unelected leading the flock falls
He lies by the wayside and sinks into the muck
They continue onward

Stumbling, they feel the ground rise
Twists and detours and just-missed drops
Herd them towards the unnoticed peak
Suddenly the wind picks up;

They stop only seconds from an
Uneven edge and a long fall.
Below them a valley drowns in fog.
A solitary mountain pokes its head above the cloud.

The darkness crawls up the mountainside to meet them
And one by one they step out into the void,
Towards the lonely peak across the solid air.
Blackness closes in, envelopes them, and billows on.