Whose Sword Lands The Blow Poem by David Welch

Mercury Delgado ruled as a drug lord,
a title that he had earned violently,
started as a dealer, worked his way up
by killing his foes mercilessly,
there was no end to his power and greed.
But a hero cop had him in his sights,
so Delgado called his henchman on night.

He said he wanted to send a message,
one that was exceedingly vile,
put a hit out on the cop's family,
said one henchman, "You mean kill a child? ! "
Delgado stared at him, angry and wild,
then pulled a gun, shot him through a neck,
the others left quick as he bled to death.

Detective Jones was on duty that night,
but got a call when the horror was found,
his three-year old daughter, his pregnant wife…
were in pools of blood, strewn across the ground,
it was obvious what had gone down.
The city police were now set to kill,
were hunting for Delgado with a crazed will.

Now Delgado knew this would bring some heart,
so he went underground and laid low,
his associated were all questioned hard,
but no facts did they confess to know,
the police anger had nowhere to go,
even will a killing public and bold
Tte law soon found that the trail had gone cold.

The drug lord believed he was in the clear,
began planning to return to his life,
but then they found one of his best dealers
impaled on a giant Bowie knife,
and there was no sign of struggle or strife.
He knew it the work of Detective Jones;
put a price on his head, made it well known.

He expected his cronies to come back
and report that the detective was dead,
instead he found his best hitman cut down,
his stomach not so much flesh as lead,
at least that's what his cronies had said,
Delgado himself wouldn't risk going out,
Jones was on a rampage, there was no doubt.

And as tense days went by, more bad news came,
his dealers and foot soldiers were slain.
How could just one cop do so much damage?
The thought of the carnage hurt his brain,
And all efforts to resist were in vain,
he'd send out ten men to ambush this fool,
maybe one would come back, smelling of stool.

His organization taken apart,
he found himself hiding in a safe house,
paranoid that Jones would learn he was there,
so crazed he made sure all the lights were doused,
he did not even bring along his spouse,
keeping a half-dozen armed me with him,
then one evening the door was blasted in.

In the smoke and the haze he heard gunshots,
but could not get a good look at the fight,
from the painful cries of all his henchmen
he figured that things were not going right,
then his leg felt a bullet's harsh bite,
as he moaned in pain, his last henchman fell,
Jones was the doom on his whole cartel…

But when he looked up, he felt quite confused,
it wasn't Jones who loomed over him there,
but an older man, armed like a soldier,
early fifties with thin, graying hair,
and frigid eyes that could stare down a bear.
This wasn't a foe Delgado had known,
perplexed, he blubbered, "I thought you were Jones! "

The man did not seem to know who that was,
based on the indifferent look on his face,
he aimed his AR straight at Delgado,
and in a gruff, angry voice he did say
"Did you think I would let you get away?
After the cops found my son's body wrecked,
dumped in a gutter, and shot through the neck? "

Delgado's mind raced, drawing a blank,
it took a bit, but he remembered,
the nameless henchman that he'd had to shoot
for being dumb enough to question his word!
The thought of it was utterly absurd!
But there was no doubt in this old man's glare,
a father's cold rage was all he saw there…

The cops found his body a day later,
they called the grieving Jones onto the scene,
he looked on and saw the throat had been cut
using the method they taught to marines,
he said as if waking from a long dream:
"You lived by the sword, there's one way to go,
but none can be sure whose sword lands the blow."