[pirate witch]: 524.Poetry.hanging day

I once dreamed
of being hanged
for piracy.
For acts of piracy,
I was hanged
by the neck
until dead.

I must have been
quite fearsome for,
I noticed
as I walked up the steps
(one step)
(two steps)
(thirteen)
that the crowd was quite large.
They watched me.
Followed the steps with their eyes.
One step.
Two.
They wanted me to stumble,
fall
they wanted some lightness
in an cloudy sky.
Cloudy skies are perfect for a hanging.

I refused.

Refused to fall,
to look down,
to cry.
Refused to give them
lightness
in their perfect day.

I refused to cry.
But a refusal to show
sorrow and tears
is not denial of fear.

Any pirate knows,
captain or otherwise,
(and I must know for I
was the Captain)
that to feel no fear
is to show
weakness.
Fear is not a weakness.

Regret is.
Would I regret
bravery?
Adventure?
Triumph?

Freedom?
Would I regret Freedom?
which is the ocean wind
and the sound
of canvas and
rope.

Hardly.

I would not regret
the lives I had changed
or the wealth
taken.
Nor the songs that I sang
off key
when we had been drinking.
I would not regret
leaving a life full
of security
for a world full
of danger.

I refused
the blindfold,
the bible
and instead I took from them
what they had not expected
to give.

I stole their finale.
For to win the hearts
of an audience
come
to see you die
is like a ship full of
amber
just begging to be boarded.

The tongue is quicker
than the rope
in execution.
And those people,
Those scared and hollow people
come to watch me swing,
were given a verdict
all their own.

And when the time came.
My words cut
too short.
I still
refused
to cry.
to pray.
To look away.

And when the time stopped.
My body swung
so still.
I had
refused
to beg.
to cry.
To let them
let me
die.