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Every Life Must End

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J

Juan1234

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Every life must end.
That very morning, as the woman trembled
In her prison rags, her chains
Trembling with her to match her trembling soul,
Till they reached the cold stone wall,
Where all tremors ceased,
A gray and ancient wolf ambled through the trees
To find a place to die.
They yanked the woman to her feet
And led her out to end her life;
Out from the intimacy of the prison walls
That had guarded her;
Out into the streets, and through the market,
Past the market, through the gate,
And to the stake.
Here, on this stake, she would die.
The wolf searched for a private place to lie,
Some bed of leaves, in which
To rest his ancient bones, satisfied,
For he had lived a long and prosperous life,
And raised his cubs, and seen their cubs,
And wanted nothing more.
The woman wanted so much more!
Her life was young, and she was scared.
She had never born a child,
And now, she never would.
Just as it began, her life was ending.
She would not die in a bed of silk,
Nor even in a bed of leaves,
Nor even with her feet upon the ground;
But here, upon the stake,
They would kill her, as a crowd looked on.
In some secret place, behind the brush and briars,
Beneath a jutting bank, between two rocks,
Amid a thicket dense of leafy trees,
The wolf would give his life up to the air,
While the woman’s life was taken from her.

And yet, the wolf had taken many lives.
(Every life must end.)
Short hours ago he’d killed a rabbit,
She, the mother of a litter.
He’d caught her when she least suspected
Death would come for her,
And even as the woman’s life,
He cut short the rabbit mother’s.
There had been a terror in the rabbit’s eyes, at first,
But quickly, resignation.
Understanding.
It was her part to feed her babes,
And when called upon, to feed the wolves.
The woman did not understand
How the powerful securely could not live
Unless that she should die,
For the killer angel of the rich
Stays his hand only for innocent blood
Above their doors;
Her terror only built
As she stood before the stake,
Before those who would watch her die.
Quick, the wolf had snapped the killing jaws,
And quick, the rabbit died,
And without pain.
The wolf meant her no harm.
Much harm they meant the woman!
Harm, and malice, and contempt!
Before they took her life,
They would make the woman suffer.
Long and cruel they’d make her journey into death.
Their whips were ready.
Oh, early death would not come early enough!
 
Juan1234 said:
Every life must end.
That very morning, as the woman trembled
In her prison rags, her chains
Trembling with her to match her trembling soul,
Till they reached the cold stone wall,
Where all tremors ceased,
A gray and ancient wolf ambled through the trees
To find a place to die.
They yanked the woman to her feet
And led her out to end her life;
Out from the intimacy of the prison walls
That had guarded her;
Out into the streets, and through the market,
Past the market, through the gate,
And to the stake.
Here, on this stake, she would die.
The wolf searched for a private place to lie,
Some bed of leaves, in which
To rest his ancient bones, satisfied,
For he had lived a long and prosperous life,
And raised his cubs, and seen their cubs,
And wanted nothing more.
The woman wanted so much more!
Her life was young, and she was scared.
She had never born a child,
And now, she never would.
Just as it began, her life was ending.
She would not die in a bed of silk,
Nor even in a bed of leaves,
Nor even with her feet upon the ground;
But here, upon the stake,
They would kill her, as a crowd looked on.
In some secret place, behind the brush and briars,
Beneath a jutting bank, between two rocks,
Amid a thicket dense of leafy trees,
The wolf would give his life up to the air,
While the woman’s life was taken from her.

And yet, the wolf had taken many lives.
(Every life must end.)
Short hours ago he’d killed a rabbit,
She, the mother of a litter.
He’d caught her when she least suspected
Death would come for her,
And even as the woman’s life,
He cut short the rabbit mother’s.
There had been a terror in the rabbit’s eyes, at first,
But quickly, resignation.
Understanding.
It was her part to feed her babes,
And when called upon, to feed the wolves.
The woman did not understand
How the powerful securely could not live
Unless that she should die,
For the killer angel of the rich
Stays his hand only for innocent blood
Above their doors;
Her terror only built
As she stood before the stake,
Before those who would watch her die.
Quick, the wolf had snapped the killing jaws,
And quick, the rabbit died,
And without pain.
The wolf meant her no harm.
Much harm they meant the woman!
Harm, and malice, and contempt!
Before they took her life,
They would make the woman suffer.
Long and cruel they’d make her journey into death.
Their whips were ready.
Oh, early death would not come early enough!
Click to expand...
:eek:
 
Her own kind had turned upon her,
And each hating face about her was united
And agreed the world were a better place
Without her breathing in it.
Nor were they content to blot her memory from the earth,
But rather meant to celebrate her death,
Mark down in history she was rejected,
Make memorial in every memory
To the day in shame she was expelled
From life on earth.
(As though life were theirs to give and take.)
For they did not hold in awe this woman,
So close to the spirit-world,
So soon to join the reverend-held phantoms of their ancestors,
But rather chose to humiliate and mock
Her, whom they had condemned.
Down they tore her rags from off her back,
For though she begged to guard her nipples’ modesty,
They denied her;
Hers was the body of a girl condemned to death;
She had no right to hide her shame.
(Every life must end,
But not all must bare their breasts!)
They lashed her to the stake,
Then they lashed her soft, bare back,
And they lashed her soft, bare breasts.
This was not for execution,
This was but for pain.
This was the punishment appropriate,
They’d decided she must suffer
Before they punished her with death.
(Every life must end,
But not all must first be flogged.)
 
Juan1234 said:
Her own kind had turned upon her,
And each hating face about her was united
And agreed the world were a better place
Without her breathing in it.
Nor were they content to blot her memory from the earth,
But rather meant to celebrate her death,
Mark down in history she was rejected,
Make memorial in every memory
To the day in shame she was expelled
From life on earth.
(As though life were theirs to give and take.)
For they did not hold in awe this woman,
So close to the spirit-world,
So soon to join the reverend-held phantoms of their ancestors,
But rather chose to humiliate and mock
Her, whom they had condemned.
Down they tore her rags from off her back,
For though she begged to guard her nipples’ modesty,
They denied her;
Hers was the body of a girl condemned to death;
She had no right to hide her shame.
(Every life must end,
But not all must bare their breasts!)
They lashed her to the stake,
Then they lashed her soft, bare back,
And they lashed her soft, bare breasts.
This was not for execution,
This was but for pain.
This was the punishment appropriate,
They’d decided she must suffer
Before they punished her with death.
(Every life must end,
But not all must first be flogged.)
Click to expand...
A remarkable ballad! Inserted in Cruxer's Digest 2017.
 
The wolf had torn the skin
From off the rabbit mother,
But the rabbit was already dead,
And before she’d died, had, in her heart
Gifted her small body to the wolf
To be his food;
She would not have her death wasted
Without nourishing her fellow creature.
And so to honor her, he took her.
‘Twas not to honor her they flogged the woman;
They dishonored her further when they’d done.
Down they tore the rags about her hips;
Down they tugged from her bare loins,
Down and loose from between her thighs,
They stripped her naked,
And why?
She never knew,
But that it punished her with shame.
So she stood, waiting,
(She could not crucify herself)
Arms behind, naked before
Her own race – these,
Who had declared she was not worthy
To live—No!
Not even worthy to die in private,
Or quickly -- still worse:
She was not worthy as she died
Even to wear clothes.
 
Juan1234 said:
The wolf had torn the skin
From off the rabbit mother,
But the rabbit was already dead,
And before she’d died, had, in her heart
Gifted her small body to the wolf
To be his food;
She would not have her death wasted
Without nourishing her fellow creature.
And so to honor her, he took her.
‘Twas not to honor her they flogged the woman;
They dishonored her further when they’d done.
Down they tore the rags about her hips;
Down they tugged from her bare loins,
Down and loose from between her thighs,
They stripped her naked,
And why?
She never knew,
But that it punished her with shame.
So she stood, waiting,
(She could not crucify herself)
Arms behind, naked before
Her own race – these,
Who had declared she was not worthy
To live—No!
Not even worthy to die in private,
Or quickly -- still worse:
She was not worthy as she died
Even to wear clothes.
Click to expand...

The interweaving of the rabbit and female victim threads is clever and well done. I like!
 
windar said:
I like it very much Juan. My only complaint is that I have reached the age where even an agonizing death on the cross seems better than some of the alternatives:rolleyes:.
Click to expand...

Don't tell me we are converting you! Will wonders ever cease :rolleyes:

We must be doing something right here on CF :)
 
They spilled her blood there, by the roadside.
They stained the public ground to celebrate
The destruction of her body,
Humiliation of her soul.
None will ever find the rabbit’s blood.
When the wolf had had his fill, he hid her,
Wrapped in her silky fur.
They stretched her out and nailed her down
Upon a timber on the ground.
All the city heard her screams,
And reveled in their triumph over innocence;
For at their will and whim they could command
That this girl’s body be destroyed,
And be displayed,
And suffer the indignity
Of so many eyes upon her naked femininity;
And without cause:
Even justice was no match for them.
It was theirs to speak;
Hers, to submit and die.
(Every life must end.)
No wolf-tooth cut her slender throat,
No nail was driven through her heart
To end her vibrant, budding life.
The spikes went through her wrists
And through her feet, to cause her pain.
Then they raised her up in exhibition.
The more they could degrade her,
The more their own glory soared.
‘Twixt life and death they opened up
A chasm, and a vasty sea of agony;
They shut her out from life’s sweet shore, all naked,
Then bid her struggle while they watched,
And even with her limbs outspread and nailed,
To swim the lonely miles unto death.
 
The wolf had found his final, shady lair.
He lay down on his bed of leaves,
Beneath the bank, amid the trees,
Behind the rock, and secret,
Redolent with the air of June.
His eyes began to shut
As he let the drowsy contentment of old age
Slow his steady heart,
Bring slumber over his head;
A slumber with a deeper satisfaction
Than his breast had ever known.
When at dusk, he died,
The woman’s heart still pounded,
Furious, wild, irregular.
In her exhaustion, and with little choice,
She’d set her private parts upon a peg
And let it sink in deep, impaling her.
(This she did while they had watched and laughed.)
And so,
Because a woman cannot be
Humiliated further,
They let her hang, thus disgraced,
At the pinnacle of shame, they made her hang,
To feel how they examined her bare body from all angles,
And how the nails, so cold, unmoving,
In the single-minded slowness of their cruelty,
Slowly,
Slowly drained,
Drained her youthful life away.
 
It took her two more days to die.
Every moment was performance
For the crowd.
Fires by night, and music, and insults;
Never a moment’s rest.
This was the ritual of death
Ordained by humankind:
That here, nailed to the bloody stake,
This naked woman’s body be destroyed,
And she prevented, amid the destruction,
From the dull relief of death,
Until they failed to prolong her pain.
The rabbit was forgotten;
The wolf was never found.
The woman’s naked corpse was left displayed,
As if her shame could be extended
When her suffering could not,
High upon the bloody stake,
Her womanhood impaled,
Until, some weeks later,
When her cross was needed for some other
Condemned to die as she,
(Every life must end)
She was taken down,
And her rotting body tossed aside to rot
Like an animal.
 
Juan1234 said:
It took her two more days to die.
Every moment was performance
For the crowd.
Fires by night, and music, and insults;
Never a moment’s rest.
This was the ritual of death
Ordained by humankind:
That here, nailed to the bloody stake,
This naked woman’s body be destroyed,
And she prevented, amid the destruction,
From the dull relief of death,
Until they failed to prolong her pain.
The rabbit was forgotten;
The wolf was never found.
The woman’s naked corpse was left displayed,
As if her shame could be extended
When her suffering could not,
High upon the bloody stake,
Her womanhood impaled,
Until, some weeks later,
When her cross was needed for some other
Condemned to die as she,
(Every life must end)
She was taken down,
And her rotting body tossed aside to rot
Like an animal.
Click to expand...
Goose bumps. This goes through the backbone and bones.
 
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