The Altruist
by Marty Lewinter
By the deafening drums and the torches of the tribe
And the terrifying chanting in the middle of the night,
An evil deed unfolded – that I now shall describe –
On a stone–hewn altar and a burning flame of light.
There a youth tied down was to have his throat slit
By the order of the chief for the greater good.
How the savages danced in the sacrificial pit
Where they howled and screamed although no one understood
Why the death was ordained by the gods all around.
Now the knife was raised and the tribe grew still
While they all drew back from the blood-soaked ground -
Now shamelessly aglow with their lust for the kill.
A thousand years have passed but the altar still remains
Where each man is the victim of another man’s needs.
And the altruist, well-armed, paints anew the bloody stains
Of the evil olden days of his dark and dreary deeds.
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