Monday, what better day to post this dark poem? It is fairly long, but it needed to be, to tell the story of the short, misguided life of the subject. Too many news stories of today are reflected in this poem. While ‘capital punishment‘ is not practiced in every state or country, it is still used, (approve it or not) in many places around the world, in response to murder and other crimes of great magnitude and severity. Though there are some governments (theocracies especially) that impose it, for what we in western civilizations would consider minor offenses, it is not a punishment to be administered lightly, for we are after all human, and capable of mistakes. However, there is no reversing the sentence after it has been carried out. This is the story of one who was proven guilty and paid the price, an eye for an eye!
I have said many times that you will like some of what I write and dislike others, here is one that may go fifty-fifty, let me know either way, I’ll be interested to know.
Have a marvelous Monday,
Seven steps were all that there were,
between the life and the death,
seven steps that lead to the chamber,
where he would draw, his last gasping breath.
On the first step, the very beginning,
of the odyssey on which he’d embark,
and the seventh, the final, the ultimate,
in the chamber awaited the spark.
The second and third were the risers,
petty and small were their type,
robbing and stealing for “pennies,”
then burgled, when the pickings were ripe.
Step number four was the crossroad,
and he was told of his last saving chance,
a sentence suspended, then forgotten,
if with the devil, he’d refuse more to dance.
But the devil held hold of his spirit,
and step five, would carry a knife,
when held to the throat of his victim,
with the words, “your money or life.”
Emboldened, he became by the weapon,
and his appetite now lusted for more,
with gun now in hand he decided,
step six, be a much greater score.
He set about planning the action,
and factored through every detail,
he would strike at the end of the evening,
when the clerk made the day’s final sale.
His preparation however, found lacking,
for resistance he did never expect,
he cursed and he yelled at the clerk then,
and pointed the gun there direct.
Then, exploding from out of its barrel,
came his ticket to step number seven,
his arrival here at the chamber,
and the late clerk’s departure to heaven.
Now, head shaven, to assist in the contact,
where the charge would enter his brain,
then race through the heart and the organs,
and the devil, his soul would reclaim.
Seven steps, were all that there were,
between his birth and that day,
his choices were not forced upon him,
but for them, with his life, he would pay.
It is said we should pity the poor soul,
for he was surely, a misguided man,
but, I’ll save my pity and sorrow,
for they, with executioner’s hands.
Copyright© Jack Downing, aka Jake @poemsandponderings.wordpress.com. All rights reserved. Contents may not be reprinted or disseminated in any manner without the expressed written consent of the author. JRD 9/10/12