Kill What Scares You

By: VSH

Washing the blood from my hands, 

Should be a greater bitter sorrow.  

I think of the spider twitching under my shoe, 

And remember my life at five, 

Crying over the fate of an arachnid's family. 

I was young and foolish then. 

Later that night, I read a poem about killing things you fear. 

I was not afraid of the spider, so my crime was in the clear. 

Except, 

The little voice is back with handmade protest signs demanding I repent. 

Guilt doesn't consume me like I remember it used to. 

I was young and deluded then. 

I dream of a story I read in school, 

And if I were a bug, I'd want someone to kill me. 

What I did proves to be a mercy. 

But tiny hands are holding up a megaphone, preaching, 

We treat bugs cruelly because we cannot hear them scream. 

I was young and ignorant then. 

I move through my day,  

Isolated from my choices by my choice. 

The fists holding a peaceful protest are banging against my skull. 

Imagine how cruel the world would seem if we heard bugs' terror.  

I thought I'd handled this long ago. 

I was young and callow then. 

I did not watch a lot of true crime, 

But it was second nature to tie her on a stake, 

And close my eyes as the fire consumed. 

I feel her anguish again, but it's not for herself. 

She's telling me not to kill what we're afraid of. 

I was young and brazen then. 

When I tell her louder, I was not afraid of the spider, 

There was no crime committed, 

She only grows more desperate. 

I clearly failed once, but I’ve already fixed it now.  

I learned from my mistake, and this time I watch. 

I was young and weak then. 

She's holding her weights, 

Like a docile lamb trotting to the executioner. 

I taped up her mouth; there's nothing more to hear. 

I must keep myself safe, 

Which is why my hand is what pushed her over.  

I was young, but I do not wash away the blood. 

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Poem Referenced in Stanza 2, Line 1:

Allowables by Nikki Giovanni

Story Referenced in Stanza 3, Line 1:

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka