Matthew Shephard (from Three Songs for Baritone)

 

In the final moment

when the station wagon

pulled away. I shivered

and was thankful to feel something.

blood glued my eyes.

I thought: the last thing

I want to remember

is not the look of hatred

in their eyes.

I breathed in the smell

of the grass that grew

before winter set in;

I heard the song

of nocturnal birds.

In my mind’s eye

I saw shooting stars

the waning harvest moon

the light of dawn.

The wind swept over the plain

yanking the matorral,

a coyote howled —

perhaps a wolf…

A field mouse scurried

in the dark.

Later, I imagined

the birds lifting off

after the planets, rising

in the silvery skies.

As the warmth of the day neared

I didn’t dare hope

I’d be rescued.

Then my soul began

its upward ascent

a sign traveling to

the arms of God

where I’d find

a peace I’d never known on earth.

 

— Jaime Manrique