Sins of My Father

I have often witnessed death though not ever the last breath; field mice frozen in a jar; slaughtered lambs in abattoir, dissected frogs in school labs, cruel boiling of live crabs for important luncheon meets. Piglets torn from mother’s teats roasted at a football game. Hungry lions eat the lame garden’s serpent kills the truth mothers’s love that kills your youth; little bug just stepped upon; “don’t destroy my sweet salon.” To embrace a death without; that is just to be Boy Scout. To embrace a death within; to my father, was a sin.