You, The Fool

• Isobel Aylward, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2021

Blood begins to drip from her shaking hands, dripping gently onto the body below.
Feather and flesh twisted into an incomprehensible mess.
Arrows shot into all of It’s eyes.
Nails hammered into each hand.
Rope tied around It’s neck.
“You are a fool to kill me!” It called out.
“You are a fool to challenge him!” It cried out.
She stood over It, looking down at the mess she had created.
“You will most certainly perish in the most painful way” It groaned out.
She lent down and pulled the hatchet from It’s chest.
“You seem to fail to understand what I am trying to do. I do not believe in any god nor do I care about my life perishing as it will not.
"I am no fool, Angel,” she said.
One, two, three strikes of the hatchet are all it took to end the pitiful creature.
And with It’s last breath came three strikes of great thunder.
The earth and every being on it shook and cried out, apologising on her behalf, begging for forgiveness.
“It seems I may have been a fool,” she said.