The Fusillading of a Freedom Fighter
and post notes and photos about your poem like Susan Ashley.
About three weeks ago, I woke up one morning with a memory of a dream on the edges of my counsciousness. I wrote the dream down in the outline of a poem while getting ready for work. Until today, I had put it on the back burner.
For some reason, I feel like this story needed to be told.
Such an ironic plight in blinding light of day,
His appreciation, the cruel blindfold o’er eyes,
After his dark time served in dank cell of dismay,
Taken out at dawn, a bright morn for his demise.
Rough restrict of ropes constrict, last embrace he’ll feel,
As he’s tied tight, upright, the execution post.
For his people, freedom from oppression he’d steal,
Heartbeats, time ticks down, he thinks of those he loves most.
TICK - TOCK - TICK… he wonders if thundering heart's heard,
And curses his body for betraying his fear.
A grim line set taut in the stubble of his beard,
Hailed a hero, fetor of human fright fills the air.
Tick - tock - tick - trussing death pole lends his back support,
Tremulous dread at life’s end - defiance steady,
As the commander begins with the last resort
And raises the rifles, brisk command of; “READY”...
Tick - tock - tears and angst co-mingle behind grimed gauze,
“You can kill this roused rebel, but there’s more the same!”
“Freedom fighters! We're willing to die for the cause!”
With rifles at the ready, a clear retort; “AIM”...
His yell; “You can all go to HELL! You cannot quell”...
With rebellious heart’s-fire flaring down to the wire,
“This revolution tolls your knell and it will swell!”
TICK - quick as a whip’s lash, the booming command: “FIRE!”
**execution by firing squad, in the past sometimes called fusillading (from the French fusil, rifle)**
Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2017