Felix Manz obeys his Mother

Sitting in the small boat, a stick between his knees,
while the dumb-struck guard rowed out to the middle of the Limmat,
Felix heard his mom's voice again, a shrill soprano under the January sky.
He'd had his opportunities to turn the boat around
but he stubbornly rejected them all,
even the pleas of the kindly minister sent to give him one last chance.
He knew it would be tough to face the stares of his friends back on the shore
and they all understood that somebody had to go first.
It might as well be him.
He'd gotten wet before, now he could do it again, for real.

There was no way Felix could know that others, learning of what happened in Zurich,
would it time consider alternate paths.
Maybe a little compromise wouldn't be so bad.
There's more than one way to force change.

Later, when the sound of the splash was preserved in memory
and the guard had returned to the shoreline,
his mom wondcered if now she could be released, finally,
from all that happened thirty years before.
That holy man had flipped her world upside down and
all she ever wanted was a little peace.
All she ever wanted was a little peace.