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{{the hanged man's folly}} [a poem]

Today in history, we watched Schindler's list. And I couldn't help but think what must've been going through the minds of the guards. Surely they hadn't much choice but to serve. Serve or die. And I wonder what they thought of as they killed people. Maybe they told themselves those people weren't human.

But it really struck me. Stuck with me. So I wrote this poem. Same concept. Though I, as a renaissance sort of person, wrote more medieval a guard at a hanging. Watching the condemned man's face.

Hanged Man's Folly

Hope of the hopeless
as sad as the broken
thinking on
when there is no future
you destitute hopeful
delusion and folly
but still
the breathing comes
if you hold on.

Why wait for death to claim you?
Go gladly into his arms.
For there's nothing left to hope for,
no dreams, no clouds, no stars.

Yet still you look through
foolish man
who clings to the edges..
Even though your sun has set
you remain staring

I cannot comprehend why you stare so,
on and on
into the darkness,
eyes searching for light
searching and praying
for a way to take flight.

But you can't see what's happening around
you cannot hear
that ominous sound
a drum roll
a crash
the floor now is dropped
and you swing in the breeze
staring
staring.