Statement
I see a cavernous, antique judgment hall. I see the ancient, well-worn wooden seats which define it. I see the heavy, velvet curtains which obscure the outside light from venturing in. And I see the well-worn flagstone floor beneath my feet.
On every side, a hostile glance, a whisper, a turning away. The murmur, so barely discernible to the unschooled ear, seems a din within my own. Like a crashing wave or incoming storm, I hear each whisper, each comment. So grateful for the sharp, electric crash of the gavel on its base; silencing the crowd and restoring the silence.
I hear the pronouncement as a numbness creeps through my members. No hope. No amnesty. There is no escape.
Her statement stands and by it, I am condemned.
On every side, a hostile glance, a whisper, a turning away. The murmur, so barely discernible to the unschooled ear, seems a din within my own. Like a crashing wave or incoming storm, I hear each whisper, each comment. So grateful for the sharp, electric crash of the gavel on its base; silencing the crowd and restoring the silence.
I hear the pronouncement as a numbness creeps through my members. No hope. No amnesty. There is no escape.
Her statement stands and by it, I am condemned.
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