Classic Poem

The push of that hard hand propels me down
My knees scrape the ground
The knots tight upon my wrists
I wait
Feel him there behind me
The cold aim of the weapon
Impossible to understand
A split second before the blast
Man’s inhumanity to man
God if you be
Grant me the courage
To die with—

Dignity.


(Previously published in Poets4Peace, Nov 2000)