Like a Dog
The door swings open,
His master is illuminated
By the light of the outside
Appearing as a broadshouldered,
Six foot brute.
In the shadow of his shoulders
In the dark room, a dog is tied up.
His jaws bound, legs brittle,
Open wounds and despairing eyes.
His tail with his joy: cut.
He is untied,
He kisses his master’s feet
He pants, begging for water.
He receives none, is whipped for crying. Once,
He bit back,
But the hammer hit harder.
He worshipped his master,
Not out of love nor fear
But mercy. Mercy, mercy tasted
Sweeter than water to a dying dog.
Mercy, he would die for
And he did. Mercy in his last breath
After he could no longer take another blow.
As he laid in his final beating
He wondered if a dog
As insignificant and unloved as him
Would go to heaven,
If he would be remembered
Or his master punished.
He thought not- he thought wrong.
The mutt became a martyr
And a million mourned for him.
When he reached heaven,
God took him by the paw
And showed him a hand.
Not a mut: but a man.
Not a master, but a father.
A father, who after his love left them
Hated her creation.
A Sadist, who saw his lovers eyes
In his child and like a dog
Tied up his son and left him
In the dark empty room.
Here is the reality:
A son is what his father makes of him.
And though he only killed a dog
There is still no greater sin.
Poetry by Luke Cable 