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Again, about Louis Riel and the Northwest Rebellion. This is just before Riel is supposed to be hanged in his jail cell, as observed by the jail guard.
He was pretty nutty by that point, but I guess the point of my poem is to portray that either 1) he wasn't that bad or 2) some people still thought he was cool.
You know, I really don't remember why I wrote this?
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Submitted: Jun 12, 2008 Reads: 14 Comments: 0 Likes: 0
His body
As eternal as a burning candle
Hosts a voice
Object of my admiration so
A pair of hands
That carried many a candle-lit nights
Innumerable strokes of the pen
Of one solitary cell
Feet that did him no good
The world can do without
An accountant, a lawyer
Or a jail guard
But the world needs
A pursuer of a shared passion
A martyr that did not die
His body was a withering flame
His features radiance beaming
His mind was the scalpel of all passions
His name was
Louis Riel
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