Gallows Tree Hill

On a lonely hill jutting above

the desolate fields stands a

single tree; The Gallows Tree.

It grows there, waiting for me.

My love, she mourns at the foot of the

Gallows Tree, handkerchief clutched

in both her shaking hands as she

weeps for me.

The cold Autumn wind blows

the leaves from the Gallows Tree,

as they march me up towards its

bony and spindly branches.

The bare branches are the image of

a hand clenched in a fist, trying

to punch the sky, and hit unmerciful

God in the nose, get his blood on things.

The October sunrise peeks over the heads

of the crowd, assembled to watch me

visit with the Gallows Tree.

I see her, my love, crying for me.

The leg irons jingle with each trudging step

I make up the hill to the executioner,

a noose swaying in the cold morning wind,

as a raven croaks unceremoniously in the tree.

My love, she weeps, as I pass her by,

I see her tears reflecting the rising orange sun,

and I know that this miscarriage would be set right,

this affront to justice would be revenged.

I face the Gallows Tree, knowing what I did was

done for love. All the spectators know. They

want me to swing nonetheless. They want my

blood to sweeten the ground of Gallows Tree hill.

A rooster crowing in the distance, the judge

nods, and the rope is placed around my neck,

a flimsy wooden box placed beneath my feet,

I decline the black hood over my head.

My love, she wails, at the foot of

the judge but he is un-swayed, he nudges

her aside and reads the Sentence to the

waiting, blood-thirsty crowd.

For murder, for arson, for theft,

for robbery, for assault, for bearing

false witness, this man is sentenced

to be hung until his death.

I can hear the Gallows Tree branches creak

in hungry anticipation of the soul about to

be delivered to it. Its greed leaking like

sap from its weathered bark. 

My love screams as the judge leans towards

my ear and asks if I have any final words

to impart or forgiveness I wish to plead.

The wind whips up as I say I do.

“I am innocent. I have done you no

wrong in this life.” The silent crowd scoffs.

“However, I cannot claim such innocence in death, as

I will have my revenge. My vengeance will be unimaginable.”

I look to the weeping eyes of my love,

sitting in a heap upon the dusty hill,

“My love, so loyal and true; my revenge will

be swift and no harm will come to you.”

The judge nodded to the executioner,

and out he kicked the flimsy wooden box,

the rope tightened, the branched creaked,

the ravens flew from the upper Gallows Tree branches.

Revenge boils in my dying eyes and I stare at

the faces of who wrongfully convicted me.

As the breath escapes me, I let my spirit go,

to bring in a reign of havoc upon these judgmental souls.

I swear and curse that every October

in the orange sun of morning, I will haunt them all

I will scare them all. I will make them beg for mercy

but provide them with none. Forever.