…I asked my mother, “Will I die?”,

as the poison swept round my body,

my last leaf on the verge of killing me,

murdered by the unnecessary,

no clue why.

I asked matter of fact, there was no

panic in my mind, if you are going

to serenade the angels

and party with God

then it helps to believe;

I had lost my faith long before

and at eleven, I reconciled

that at least they knew my killer

and that it had blown out

before I would say goodbye.

Death you see, to me was preferable

than the pain I had felt

as the toxic hare race round my body

infecting every vein, if it was meant to be

then let it be, I smiled and made no vow

save that should I survive

then no tortoise would I become.

 

Ian D. Hall 2018