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The fruit

July 10, 2014

Shaded in an empty room,

a hood covering His ageless face,

i watched Him claim my neighbors lives

without leaving even a footprint as trace.

equality taken to extremes, His scythe knew no stay

boys, girls, young, old, mothers with babes,

thieves, white men harvesting

organs from children in the night,

all fell beneath His sharp precise knife.

all of us meet Him, and i have seen Him close.

watching his gaze cast around the room,

i couldn’t hold my tongue:

“why now?” i cried?

“why ever? why cannot this mother live to raise her babe?”

“why are these sisters, thin as waifs, taken so soon to their graves?”

His silent stare fixed me with fear, His sweet breath upon my neck

caused me to stand and run screaming from that shaded room

out onto the lighted deck.

my eyes they blinked, chest rose and fell

and in that instant i knew, the answer to my foolish question

has been passed down as truth.

we humans fight to stay His hand,

with medicine, treaties, innovation, and soul,

but in the end He comes for all

it doesn’t matter who.

we try to know the when, the why

but in the end that is our crime.

in this case, might not ignorance be bliss,

to live life to the fullest yet

each day that passes may be the last,

each cliche here trespasses

on this truth I yearn to share.

meddling with His great work

bears no fruit for you and me.

though we’ve eaten of the tree,

just that one single bite

did not give us enough to know

when Death is wrong or right.

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