Life persisted longer
than it ought for such
is the way of things with
feathers or fur…
Life clings to
Hope, defies
pain – and dreams
beyond reason, in
vain, to dance
or fly.
Life speaks
to Life, and Hope
to Hope and so we
wished the twisted
bird in bushes, on
the ground, neck
ghastly awry, a chance,
but hours bow to how
things must be, and we
are led to yield in will
or deed
the chance
exhausted, Life
squawked, still, as if
to bargain with the agencies
of fate
that this day chose
my hand; I killed
the bird to end the
agony – but find
myself in twilight left
to grope:
mine the hand that put
an end to pain; mine too, the
hand that put an end to hope. -fin DLK 7/3/2022