Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Free Will Demands Punishment

They hung me for clumsy crimes
and petty acts committed unwittingly.

I hung at wit's end;
swung back and forth
in time with the rope’s creak.

It did not concern me
to be hung - coming from a tree
I was used to the feel of suspension.

I will admit that hanging there
gave time for thought. I regretted 
the hurt to Geppetto who stood
below, eyes raised as if I
was a mysterious sacrifice.

My breath exited, I found though
that my toes had kept 
some sort of consistency
with distant roots, while fingers
became leaves.

I spread out; soaked in the world
while time became the preoccupation 
of those who hung me.

When they cut me down (again)
I ran to Geppetto’s arms, wept tears 
as thick as sap; promised him 
I’d do better with a second chance.

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