Photo credits: publicdomainpictures.net

A MEMORY INTERMIXED WITH TERROR AND BEAUTY
 

A memory as a child
still fresh in my ashen mind
like a morning dewdrop;
when I held that tiny monarch in my hand
with its bleak chance of survival.

Power to crush its sparkling shiny wings
shining brilliantly under the apricity
of the kind summer sun
to know at that moment,
in that precise moment
the unchecked power
I held as a human being
laced with my endless greed.

To crush or to save a tiny soul
an innocent being—
traveling thousands of miles
fighting for its sustenance
for its survival;
only to meet its abrupt end.

That insane moment where the beauty
and terror hangs in the balance
rush of emotions rising up my spine
hairs standing at its roots:
untethered excitement covering every inch
of my walnut skin pocked with freckles
an unfettered gaze; when I held the being
at the centre of my soft palms
deciding its fate.

Holding the lien to a soul
comes with its own set of morals
made me think of all the endless possibilities.
Like a stone breaking the skin of a lake,
a fractal expanding in an outward direction
ready to meet its plausible end.

I ask myself that moment.
Who holds the power to our truth?
How can we possibly judge someone?
With our knees pressed down at the pews,
leaving a soft impression,
praying to exalted Gods in heaven
asking forgiveness for the sins we commit.

Seeking salvation or absolution
while our fingers are dipped in blood
with flesh stuck in our teeth
of those who lie endlessly in wait
to be ever heard or seen.