Member Poem

As I bent a knee, perplexed
Girl dead, her head thrown back,
Her blazing eyes holding
Expressions of surprise of hatred.

For the night was still young,
And the sky lucid as never before,
I got out of that placid cell,
Which for a moment felt like hell.

With the flow of air,
The tales were told, every head,
Young or old, man or woman
Got hold of that unheavenly event.

Soon arrived the men of justice,
Performing their folk lores of examining and judging,
Searching the whereabouts of "scene of crime",
Guarding the people from people themselves.

Entered a man, abruptly; in shock,
"Oh my dearest what has been done" said him at once,
Seemed as if he was some close to the dead one,
And yes he was husband,
I heard from some.

Till dawn the spectators were at their place,
Talking about the whole night's craze.
While the kin of the deceased held her for last,
I stood right there keeping mourn

And still thinking the same from last night,
"Why had I done it?"