Victory's Right Price Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A wolf falls down, the fight is done,
No strength to rise, no victory won.
Throat laid bare, a silent plea,
'I yield, ' it says, 'Just finish me.'

But wait, the victor, strong and bold,
Stands frozen still, a story told.
A deeper law, it understands,
Than pride that fuels our human hands.

An ancient rule, within its blood,
That killing now, misunderstood,
Would weaken pack, would bring despair,
So mercy wins, the loser spares.

No shame to lose, no scorn to bend,
The fight is over, it must end.
No boastful winner, filled with glee,
Just life that flows, eternally.

They walk away, on separate trails,
Ignoring ego's petty wails.
Oh, could we learn this simple grace,
To find in peace, a better place.

T.M.Solvang