Chop-Block Dignity

There is a dignity to the chopping block;
a weight to the carriage of one whose life will end
with the terrifying swiftness of birth.

How I wish for once those broken hearts
would watch me with such tearful intensity
that a lifetime could be redeemed in a moment.

How different is the sickening crack of decision
as if life had broken a bone, and you are still laughing
but now it hurts and then everything is tears.

How different is the stuttering pause of the engine
as you continue flying, knowing you are losing altitute
and wishing for a plummet to match your panic.

Instead I grimace as my rib punctures my lungs;
instead I float slowly downward.