D.O.A Poem by Marie Joyce B. Negapatan

Seven to go
And all will follow,
As he wheels away
The gurney of no tomorrow.

In a mask
Of a thousand disguises,
His fleece of snow
As soft as an angel’s cloud,

But a fire
From the eyes of the fiercest
Lion.

In this thorn-laden road
We walk bare-footed.
As he who follows

Our own shadow.
We, the blood of the cursed
Is the wine of a serpent.

The irony that slays
The convicted innocence
Lies in only one destination

This thin line slowly rests.