The Scavenger

It is his lot to feed on rotting flesh
And find his pleasures midst the fetid reek
At dawn the dewdrops smile, each day is fresh
And yet he must, decaying corpses seek

What crime is his? Why must he spend his days
Befriending putrid death and sick disease?
Does lack of valor lead him to these ways
Or lack of prowess make his blood lust cease?

But No! He wallows not in self pity
Though feeds he off a carcass in the mud
Whilst killers rest in rude impunity
He wipes away the stench of blackened blood

Though Life is living Hell, he draws his breath
With cold solemnity he feeds off Death

Reviews

[Christina May Shanaberg]

Great last two lines; perfect ending. People don't like scavengers, as a rule, but they are necessary, in God's plan. I used to manage a grocery store and would feed buzzards the spoiled pork; they really liked that. They are, actually, amazing creatures and gentle, because they do not kill anything themselves.

[Middling]

"Though Life is living Hell, he draws his breath
With cold solemnity he feeds off Death"

These lines really struck me.

[An owl on the moon]

There is such a depth of darkness.. of death and its powerful hold... Somehow even death feeds life here.. giving more but leaving the bitterest aftertaste... Powerful and vivid in every detail.

[SilestaRavenhart]

A thought-provoking and honest look on something that most people despise. The construction is beautiful; everything pulls together wonderfully at the end.

[aaaa]

Very good, very disturbing. I like it.