Bitch crucified

 

Through creatured screams rise deathless cries of pain,

full tortured on the sullen, restless breeze

that plays around Luanda’s littered veins;

as bowels open, children laugh and metal bars are raised.

A cry unearthly, streaming through the cloud of dusted skies,

to settle grimy feathers at the door;

as mercy calls in broken-winged appeal,

with voice full human, terror-drawn through teeth canine.

In serpent  shriek,  death’s  fingers tease life’s song,

upon the lyre of Africa’s cruel heart,

where trickstered being rules the world

and  flesh of dog or man may wear the welt of striking rod.

In childish dance, creeps laughter, light-limbed  in horror’s world

in pebbled strike upon the broken form,

teasing  bloodied paws from unforgiving edge,

in joyful celebration of cruel sacrifice; the figure flayed and scorned.

And in the dying moments, when screams are whimpered births,

then wiser, older voices call an end;

cruel ignorance takes breathless flight

and day draws dusky gown to shroud the awful truth.

Dark night creeps slowly, pleading touch upon the bloodied brow,

as Sun burns fading light upon the wounds

in shadowed fire, and healing kiss,

upon the cross of shattered limbs!

NB: A poem written when I lived in Angola and  heard and then saw a group of street children beating a dog.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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One Response to Bitch crucified

  1. Ruth says:

    this reads dangerous & has much to recommend it in the way of writing:

    And in the dying moments, when screams are whimpered births, and the last four lines especially… yes, I like it

    but that poor dog!

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