J
Juan1234
Guest
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!
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!