The Question

Writers Envy

What I fear most when I appear at the gates of Heaven is a question:
“My son, why did you kill the sparrow?”

I raised my BB gun and aimed;
At the end of the cold steel barrel
sat the sparrow singing its song
of joy, and happiness, and innocence;
I pulled the trigger and let fly the BB;
The golden pellet raced through the space
of a moment and entered the sparrow’s
soft, downy white breast and raised
a puff of tiny, fluffy feathers;
Then time slowed to a motion so fluid
I could see the tiny red spot appear
and spread on that harmless, flawless
Then my world grew quiet when the singing
stopped as Life flew from the tiny breast,
And I grew somber as I watched the
little bird fall dead from its perch and lay
lifeless on the cold, hard dirty surface of

View original post 26 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s