We have rehearsed it carefully
without believing we would take
this final walk...one step? ...three rods?
not ever a mile.
Feel the world shake!
Now hurry, for the air is full
of hoarse, insistent, moaning scales.
First open up the cages, free
the birds, for death is grim in jails.
These pellets to our furry pets
we give with love.
And now, ourselves:
There is no time for a last look
at sweet-faced pictures, laden shelves.
Maybe the hardest task is this:
can we fling all we do not need
out of our minds? We have no use
for fear's adrenalin, hate greed.
Leave the doors open; let us rush
to the place where the street goes east.
(Perhaps another sun will rise...
There waits our happy past, at least.)
Here is the moment; come with me.
Our hands are empty; for awhile
let's walk, however brief the walk;
one step...three rods...not ever a mile.
Agnes Clark
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-ever-a-mile/
