Capital Punishment

Ever-since I was a child I was always anxious around the issue of “Capital Punishment”.  I could understand why people killed each other, as a child I to had indulged fantasies of that nature.  I experienced films where the hero would kill the villain, it made sense, the oversimplified ‘balance’ (to attribute balance to any field of human endeavour is, I believe, to miss the opportunity to seek truth, and instead to settle for an ideological version of truth which supports a predisposed system of beliefs to which one sympathises) made sense.

However when I heard about Capital Punishment, it was always presented by a stern faced, dissociated, monotonous news reporter.  I could not understand why life was being extinguished with such surgical precision and lack of emotion.  The last time I had encountered something similar was a school project on the Holocaust.

I was utterly aghast to discover that hundreds of people per year have and will die at the hands of their governments.

Edwin Brock captures this glaring stupidity, as often Poets can.


(First published in 2009)

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