The Chair

1st Place Winner in the "If This Chair Could Talk" contest

 

I was masterful.

In a sense,

A kind of god.

I didn’t give life,

But I most certainly took it away.

 

I was more of a throne

than a simple chair.

 

In a sense, my presence was

Majestic

Intimidating.

Commanding respect

Borne of fear. 

 

I never felt pity, not once.

Did I forgive those who came to me?

Yes.

For in their final moments,

They succumbed to me,

Repentant,

Sorrowful

Even if their sorrow was only for their

Unavoidable outcome.

As the end drew near and my power

Jolted through them,

I forgave.  

I took their lives, quickly. 

 

This one was different. 

He was thrown in the room, and then

The space filled with

The officers, the doctors, the priest, and

The Condemned. 

Hatred overwhelmed the small space. 

This was new.

It seeped in every part of the space,

Free flowing from

The officers, the doctors,

And even the priest. 

 

The observers, well, they too, were different.

Most came to watch the fate

With a quiet disgust

For the person

Until they witnessed the fullness of my power,

Then, they mourned. 

For the taking of a life never replaced one.

 

 

These observers, these onlookers,

Their revulsion permeated the room. 

It was a stench unlike any other. 

 

All the while,

He grinned.

 

Brutally placed into my hold,

He bled, and

All the while,

He grinned.

I crowned him as only I could,

And understood what was wanted from me.

From the officers, the doctor,

Even the priest.

From the onlookers, the observers,

Who waited in silent disgust,

Eager for the end of his life.

For some reason, I couldn’t feel that

They’d regret taking his life.

I couldn’t forgive him, even if I wanted to.

I mustn’t allow this one to go quickly. 

This one would not succumb.

 

As if he heard my thoughts, he struggled against

My restraints.

All the while,

He grinned.

Then, the grin,

Morphed into a smile.

And he began to shout.

He wasn’t sorry.

He’d do it again.

He hated them.

F**k them.

He hated life.

F**k life.

There was nothing they could take from him.

The loathing rolled off the priest,

The priest, of all people,

As he administered his last rites. 

 

And then, it was my time

All eyes were focused on me.

Expectations rained upon me.

The electricity began,

And now coursing through him,   

He began to dance for me. 

The power became fiercer,

More concentrated.

The steely glint of the eyes of the onlookers,

The resolute eyes of the workers,

The hatred from them all,

Started to make its way into my cracks and crevices,

And I felt something I’d never though I would:

Pity.

Please repent, I silently urged.

End this now.

Submit.

Succumb.

 

But, this one,

This one would not succumb.

His evil overcame it all. 

I sighed to myself as his hair

Burst into flames.

And all the while,

He grinned. 

 

Reviews

[Collette]

I love your ability to personify, it's wonderful! The commanding presence of the chair...the way everybody surrounding it treats it like a deity. The sacrificial offering of the dregs of our society. This piece has me going in so many different directions. Is this supporting the death penalty, or making a statement? I loved these lines:
This one was different.
He was thrown in the room, and then
The space filled with
The officers, the doctors, the priest, and
The Condemned.
Hatred overwhelmed the small space.
This was new.
It seeped in every part of the space,
Free flowing from
The officers, the doctors,
And even the priest.

It really hammers home the sublime nature of the chair. I dig, I dig.

[sheerpoetry]

great job transferring feeling into an object and then getting a point of view out of it. If thats not the basis of art i dont know what is!

[The DuchessPoet]

This is an amazingly good write!
Very well, done!

The Duchess