He sits in his cell
She in hers
He is praying
Somewhat futilely in her opinion
for forgiveness from his God.
He calls across the hallway to her
asking if she has begged for
repentance.
But she merely throws her head back
and laughs like she hasn't in weeks, perhaps even months.
"Then you shall go to Hell, friend,"
he calls, bitter tears choking his voice
as the time ticks slowly away and
a noose sways in his mind's eye.
She laughs again, and replies,
"For what? We are both here to die;
we will both have payed our price.
Here you are meant to be, while I am not.
I ask you this, brother, why is your God not here for me?
What reason have I to pray?"
He has committed
******
****** in the first degree
of the first-born brother who would not share his
money
land
or other birthright earnings.
Now half an hour is left
the priest has come and gone.
And from their ground-level windows they can see the
gathering crowd proclaiming,
"String them up!
Hang the murderer 'til his neck snaps!
Hang the ***** 'til her breath is gone!"
And he pokes his head out between the cell bars
and whispers down the hall.
"So, this is why you are here?"
She nods once, and then once more as a farewell,
as the executioner comes
to lead her
away.