Night of Fire

As you attempt to lift yourself from the
Cold, rain soaked stones, your feet slide out
From under you, causing a moment of
Fierce panic, resulting in the grasping
Of your hands to the wall in front of you.
Thus stable, staring at the ground, you see
A glint that's fighting to be seen against
The black, wet stones. You clear the soot away,
Revealing metal; cold, sharp, mobile Death.
To lift it from the ground is not a choice,
But instinct, and not until after you have
Condensed the blade into its handle do
You recognize the sound of Justice out
For blood and protection. "Hide, hide, away,"
Your pulse is quickened, breath increased, and yet,
Your eyes are held, immovable. What's Carved
In stone, "MY NAME IS MATTHEW, AND I DIE
TOMORROW." Resonance is ringing in
Your heart, your soul, both begging to know who
This is, and why his life must end. But on,
Before you are uncovered in this place,
And must the cruel and unkind Justice face.