Moccasined Feet - the long version

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A much longer version of the 24 syllable poem I posted yesterday.

Submitted: October 18, 2019

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Submitted: October 18, 2019

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Moccasined Feet

 

A silent midnight it was,

as she rose from the ground

and slid her feet into

soft and supple moccasins.

Perfect for the occasion

for stealth,

for silence,

were of the greatest importance.

She stepped gently,

her feet never laying down grass

as she made her way

to where the invaders lay,

wrapped in their dreams of victory.

She heard the screams

that her people would make,

should these intruders get their own way.

As they were lost in slumber

she gathered their arms.

Should she kill them as they intended

to do to her own race?

She could do it,

so easily,

and vanish without leaving a trace of her presence;

just a large-scale slaughter,

a mystery to all but those that believed.

It wasn’t her way.

She would spill no blood,

not even a single drop

but would steal their guns, their ammunition,

the knives they had hidden about their person;

so gentle a touch they’d not feel

the removal of those blades.

So strong she was that she carried those

tools of death

while still stepping,

softly,

silently

back to her grave,

where those weapons would lay

with her bones.

She might not have fought;

had decided on no victory,

but at least she had made

a level killing field.


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