Isaac

Isaac

His name was not Isaac,

But his eyes held the same fear.

“Prove that you love your country,” they said.

“Conserve for the survivors,” they said.

So many thoughts ran through my head.

“I don’t want anyone dead.”

“This is my job, and many people die So why sob? Why cry?”

I looked around for a sign to stop,

Some angel to yell at me,

Even just a light to drop from the ceiling.

Anything! Won’t you do something, please?

But there was nothing.

Nothing but the whizzing of the machine

And the breaths exchanged between us,

Because we both knew what was coming.

The lamb silently begs me,

His lungs wheezing his plea.

But alas I must bring the knife down

And pull the plug.

Mi dispiace…

By Ariana Vida and Cameron Wolschina