The Conscientious Objector for Today

Edna St. Vincent MillayThe Conscientious Objector

I shall die, but
that is all that I shall do for Death.
I hear him leading his horse out of the stall;
I hear the clatter on the barn-floor.
He is in haste; he has business in Cuba,
business in the Balkans, many calls to make this morning.
But I will not hold the bridle
while he clinches the girth.
And he may mount by himself:
I will not give him a leg up.

He has business in Columbine, in Aurora, in Portland, in Newtown, in Detroit, in Chicago, in New York, in Los Angeles…

Though he flick my shoulders with his whip,
I will not tell him which way the fox ran.
With his hoof on my breast, I will not tell him where
the black boy hides in the swamp.
I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death;
I am not on his pay-roll.

Nor will I contribute to his coffers, nor abet his racism, nor offer comfort for his bigotry.

I will not tell him the whereabout of my friends
nor of my enemies either.
Though he promise me much,
I will not map him the route to any man’s door.
Am I a spy in the land of the living,
that I should deliver men to Death?
Brother, the password and the plans of our city
are safe with me; never through me Shall you be overcome.

Fear is the handmaiden of spiritual death, the footman to the delusions of the fearful.  I shall die, but that is all I shall do for death.

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