Weary Friend

You look weary, my friend
Just bones and skin
Like a fence-post strung with barbed wire
And I can tell by your smile
Which shows every mile
That even the wind feels like fire
And the trees are all dry
Where you once rested by:
Leaves you feeling a little betrayed
But my branches are long
And my trunk is strong
And I invite you to rest in my shade
It ain’t nothing but pride
That keeps you outside
But you insist that it’s just your way
But one thing you learned
Is that sunlight burns
Worse at the end of the day
With rivers of sweat
You’ve made good your debts —
But you still ain’t convinced that you’ve paid
And when you stand on your toes
You scare all the crows
But you still haven’t scared me away
I’ve seen all the ghosts
That make you their host
Like a house left to stand on a hill
The ghosts to their best:
Ain’t no time to rest
When there’s still one left to kill
And if you search in the dark
You’ll find three stones to mark
Those that are as cold as the clay —
One of the haints
And one for the spirits
And one for the friends passed away