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Song of Sorrow

It was 4:39 AM—the moment of your passing.

Your cries awakened me from a dream.  Silenced by your outrage, even the birds froze at attention. Huddling closer. Instinctively seeking the comfort of one another.

While you were wriggling desperately to free yourself, I sat immobilized. Listening. Imagining. Shuddering at the thoughts that carried me to where you were—suffering all alone.

Blood pooled in a corner of his mouth. He released his grasp, just long enough for you to let out one last cry.  I waited.  Anticipating.  There was no one to come to your rescue. He barked with satisfaction. Again, I heard it. It was almost as if he were laughing. Bragging, over a life extinguished.

The minutes passed. A drama now over, the  birds began to sing again—led first by the morning dove.  A song of sorrow. A song of peace.

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