Final Words
by Jacqueline Cooke

Mounting the scaffold- hold your head high, my brave one!
Do not look into the faces of the blood-hungry mob,
you were always above them, a porcelein angel out of the reach of such
mindless children.
Now your wings are muddied and torn, ripped by merciless hands
that could not understand that lofty vision-
Utopia!
Bend your neck for the blade with honour,
and shut your eyes to the fools who jeer at you.
You always knew this loneliness, and now it is completely here,
facing you.
Your God cannot take your hand now, nor guide you up the stairs
to the loving arms of Death.
Take your steps firmly then, your face a mask, and die for the people.
Let them see diffidence, those who honour you shall always know the truth.