Savage World

In the stillness of the garage, I remember

The dance of death, the delicate balance

Of predator and prey, life and loss

As I brushed the corpses of flies

From the windows they mistook for freedom.

Their vibrant bodies, desperate and wild

Clung to the glass, their fluttering wings

A futile protest against the inevitability of fate

Until the spider emerged from its dank hole

Nervous and exposed, but driven by instinct

To claim its prey, to fill its sack with lifeblood.

As the world passed by outside, oblivious

I watched in horror and fascination

As the spider closed in on its victim

With a hungry determination, drawing blood

From the fly, now still and stranded

A speck of life clinging to the edge of existence.

I hurled the broom in an act of futile defiance

Facing the cold reality of nature’s cruel game

As the spider, dull with spider-anger,

Left its broken prey behind, limping away

A broken hero, a killer of necessity

Leaving nothing behind but the remnants of life.

I ran, with God’s anger chasing me

Back to the simple sunlight, a child once more

Left to wonder at the savagery of the world

At the dance of death, the web of life

Where predators and prey collide

In a never-ending cycle of love and loss. ("Savage World") by Courtney Weaver Jr.