"Hold this now!" she barks commands,
     in manner quite abrupt.
Though current situation,
     gives her reason to erupt.
She hands me box, the silver cube,
     that inside life now flows.
Transfusing red elixir,
     to the patient I suppose.

But still the woman stutters,
     her life in waves escapes.
Her breathing so erratic,
     over body death so drapes.
Yolanda yelps, "I'm losing her!"
     She thumps the cage in rhyme.
And through the bars she wipes her face,
     removing rancid slime.

The clouds are parting; rolling back.
     The encore of the sky.
The heavens bursting through the dark,
     and singing lullaby.
That holy blue, I thank the Lord,
     the light and warmth return.
Illuminating answers,
     as the darkness starts to burn.

My knees are bathed in putrid goo,
     it moves at pace of snail.
Reminding me of moments,
     in Yolanda's sordid tale.
The silver box, no bigger,
     than a larger piece of coal,
sputters as it lacks the source,
     to ably keep control.

"You're spent!" I say, "You've done enough!"
     as the young girl starts to weep.
The box begins a rhythmic nag,
     with tone that burrows deep.
I watch the woman lying there,
     of living she seems weary.
Her skin so pale, deathly so,
     bestowing glow that's eerie.

Strained though our relationship,
     Yolanda's words were true.
And now I'm left ambivalent,
     with no clue of what to do.
To think I almost killed her,
     a human, of some form.
An act I could not bear to do,
     no matter how I'm torn.

And tantamount to murder,
     if I do not offer aid.
I make resolve to help her,
     though deep down I'm so afraid.
"Use me," I say inaudibly,
     and push resolve some more.
"My blood," I tell her, "take it!"
     though I'm shaking to the core.

"No" she answers, quietly, "No"
     she start to sob.
An anxious feeling permeates;
     my heart begins to throb.
It beats in fits and starts,
     a rhythm so complex.
I'm never sure quite what to do,
     each day here to perplex.

I grab her shoulder, "use my blood",
     and tubes I aim to snatch.
With lightning speed she intercepts my wrist,
     "You're not a match."
"How so?" I ask. "How do you know?
     Just try! Why do you tarry?"
Why does she isolate herself,
     with load she cannot carry.

Her body now so broken,
     it hardly works at all.
Why couldn't she confide in me?
     Why erect a mighty wall.
She knows what happens in this world.
     She knows what makes it tick.
She knows its black foundations,
     and construction brick by brick.

Yet still she hides the truth from me,
     like the sun the storm obscures.
The lies, deceit, lead me away,
     with highly potent lures.
And form a truth, mine own I do.
     Can she hold me to blame?
I stir the pot of her untruth,
     yet she ignited flame.

The woman laying in the cage,
     indecent cold and ill.
What led to her imprisonment,
     to state so déshabillé.
She searches me with hungry eyes,
     her pain too much to bear.
But moments later change their tone,
     and echo deep despair.

An ochre brown, unusual,
     her face of beauty taut.
The all at once her spirit leaves,
     fleeing; overwrought.
Yolanda cries, she beats the cage,
     her torso slides to floor.
And lays in weeping puddle,
     in the goo, the grit and gore.

I venture to her close and lay,
     my hand upon her side.
"Let me in" I weakly speak,
     intentions clarified.
She fastens lips and silent stays,
     though body shakes so gently.
As grief becomes her focus,
     as she meditates intently.

The graveyard filled with mourning rays,
     the day so juvenile.
A parallel is cast, a life,
     that never made a mile.
Yolanda reaches into cage,
     her fingers start to weep.
And gently closes maiden's soul,
     to aid eternal sleep.

Why does this world such pain bestow?
     Could the Lord not intervene?
Did he think this course of action best?
     For he knows the coming scene?
Of course my place is not to know,
     and trust him still I do.
But register a trite request,
     for strength I should continue.

"Help me please." The words so meek.
     The ask so minuscule.
She offers me a metal shaft,
     I'd guess some kind of tool.
Yolanda points at side of cage,
     she works the other end.
Slowly we release the screws,
     and at the hinges bend.

I know the task ahead of me,
     unwanted obligation.
Respectfully to honour her,
     she consigned to degradation.
Yet belief I hold and firmly still,
     that though her body decomposes,
In heav'n above she may dance with thee,
     amongst abundant roses.

With utmost care, I pull her free,
     her body still and cold.
Then carry empty vessel,
     in a manner so controlled.
I stumble once, berating self,
     the ground beneath to blame.
Yet catch my stance, my gait reborn,
     and avoid her dreadful shame.

I see the cause of bleeding now,
     I see her cause of death.
I see the thorn in side of life,
     that stole her very breath.
Averting gaze does nought for me,
     with grizzly scene embossed.
On eyes that wish they hadn't seen,
     her terminating cost.

I lay her down with care,
     the likes I've ne'er before displayed,
Away from population fake,
     where human race decayed.
It's then my morbid trance adjourns,
     and fear collides with me.
Around her neck a sunlit blast,
     ignites a tiny key.