It wasn't a knock

It wasn’t a knock

but a pounding, shaking

the door. He sat, the pages

open before him, hearing

the vibration from the door,

an axe hacking at an already

fallen tree. He knew the time

had been coming, arriving

in thunder. He first thought

to hide the small cross

around his neck, the cross

that was his noose. Instead,

he waited for the door

to give way.

He heard the first splinters.

Photograph by Teodoro S. Gruhl via Public Domain Pictures. Used with Permission.