WAITING FOR THE NOOSE … A POEM BY OSALAM WOSU (2edged Pen) 

Hidden by masks, 

                 with arms of stone

The executioners are present;  directing us 

       to our next step; our final step

I can swear, those who now cheer 

     waiting for me to be executed 

Were those beside me 

         in the days of my rebellion 

My beliefs and my debates seem empty now 

But not as empty as my body,          lacking spirit and soul

On its way to Sheol’s   unquenchable coal 

Insanity! Where are you?  Come and take your toll

My companion you’d be

    to guide me through this final step


In this moment,  I care not about any monument  

That’d be for my sake,  erected

Or what, when visitors see my headstone,  they’d comment 

I just wish that my soul would be by Death, rejected 

Or my spirit be given my killers to torment 


I hope no more on a savior anyone would send 

No wishes of a helping hand mortals could lend 

As we approach the gallows, just after that bend 

This truly is the beginning of the end 


The priest before us in impeccable white

Ironic! For his sermons were always of life eternal

But we all here have destinies doomed to fires; infernal

I struggle to gather my dying thoughts right 

But in my minds eye is nothing but a blinding light 

When I fought for the right to live,  I never thought I’d lose

And I’d be here waiting for the noose

©2017 2edged Pen 

Photo by Alamy stock photos

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