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

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