Devoured to nothingness
The heroism feeds upon my future,
All seizes and decomposers commence.
Baby birds tweet as their long skinny necks stretch towards blind faith. Somewhat frantically; newly born; next to dead; fragile existence; protected with life. Regurgitation from the same embodied mouth that an egg came from. Hidden from the world in a tree of life and chosen by the universe, without choice. Bound by instinct, life's purpose is to live. Feather light with a solid frame; wings for flight flap for unexplainable reason…; decomposers prey on the dead. Predators’ gifted with unmatched naked eye site; take life. Meaningless meanings that explanation is interrogated by; comparing this ability to fly with freedom. Arguing its merits as well; baby birds incubated from eggs rely on instinct…; unable to see with their eyelids stuck shut. Definitions define with answers…; created by a man. Facts become law. Acceptance leaves out the option of debate; born into this world with instincts and long necks…; only to rely on blind faith.
originally written in 2014 and edited today for contest
9-20-16
she weeps in a forest clearing by a pond,
the full moon above her head turns everything silver,
her silent tears create ripples on the waters surface
her voice echos in the dead silence as she cries out
eli, eli lemi sabachthani, twice she called this out pitifully
then she keeled over as if death had washed over her
now cries and the pounding of large paws could be heard
on this faithless night of all nights, they came to the clearing
and stopped, staring at the lifeless body of the girl lying near the pond,
they became restless when the wind sent the scent of fresh blood towards
their nostrils, now they rushed forward with enormous amounts of enthusiasm
and velocity, ripping into her flesh with large claws viciously fighting over her flesh
when the wolves were finished they clambered away with full bellies leaving nothing but
some shredded blood-stained clothes, her shredded entrails, and her eyes shining in the
moonlight like two wet marbles, then came the other nocturnal monsters and decomposers
to dispose of the evidence of that dreadfully faithless night.
A lifeless house sparrow lays dead
In the middle of the towpath
As if asleep on a green sheet;
Its body still warmed by the sun
That one could mistakenly guess
Its demise was moments before
My arrival except that its
Only exposed eyeball was gone
Indicating an earlier
Death. No decomposers arrived
As yet, usually the maggot
Flies are the first at a death scene.
I picked up the feathery corpse
And buried it beside the path.