When I moved to the countryside
the killing started:
first spiders, and predator wasps,
then mice and rats,
vine weevils and fly,
beetles, mildew and blackspot.
I kill chickens now,
with both remorse and purpose,
and though the taking of life
has not yet become routine,
there is no denying
my newly acquired skills in dispatching
lives before their time, -
killing in the country,
being no crime.
Surrounded by the lives I‘ve taken,
I am no longer sure of the hierarchy
of consciousness involved,
and the more death I encounter,
the closer I get to life and its living.
©Niall OConnor 2024
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments are welcome . . .