Poem: The Crossroads

Down in the Mississippi delta
The trees weep on the wind
Momma’s tell their babies
They’re weeping for souls
Of those who lived in sin

The ramblers and wanders
Who were lost not looking to be found
Traveling to the ends of the earth
Found themselves discovered
At a four point crossroads
An intersection of promise
Between art and faith and eternity and
Standing opposite a man in black
Holding promises in a black case
Filled with the glow of immortality

Those weeping trees watched the deal
Silent to protest the inevitable outcome
A bargain made a soul for immortality

In damned hands sounds rose
Lifting music to the heavens
While each adorned note
Dragged the artist closer to hell
Until at last the bill came due
And the devil himself came to collect
Dragging the pleading artist away
Muttering about the promise of immortality
To which the devil replied 
That they had their pledged eternity
Even without them the music lives on
While they’ll play in hell’s own band

So when you hear the willows weeping
Keep on moving out of this town
Lest you find yourself at the crossroads
Faced with a deal you can’t turn down

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Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.

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