The Web

When the spider dies
the web
no longer holds;
the strands break
captives are loosed
but the danger is not past;

succumbing
to their fears,
accustomed
to their prison,
they have forgotten
how to fly;

docile and defeated,
grown dependent
on the bonds
of their jailer,
they fall to earth,
lost and alone.

There they lie
without a struggle,
buzzing softly,
a hymn of longing
for the predator
who stole their lives.

Deborah Beach Giordano
© January 22, 2016

About inklingscommunity

I am a struggling Christian, committed pacifist, near-obsessive recycler, incurable animal lover, inveterate tree-hugger; a nature mystic, a socialized introvert, an advocate for the vulnerable, an opponent of exploiters.
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