Poem: Inches from salvation
Inches from salvation
his breath was heavy and his legs were leaden
but still he carried on
he was only half a mile from the border
with the enemy following his trail
a trail of red running through the icy forest
covered in a blanket of white
from behind he heard harsh voices of men
led by the sound of barking hounds
his scent heavy in their nostrils
the only thing between him the border and freedom
he limped into a clearing
where his eyes were met by a frozen lake
the border
his freedom
he was a mere fifty feet from his freedom
his heart pounded with fear
and with joy
only fifty feet until his salvation
forty five feet later his pursuers had found the end of the trail
he felt the metal of the bullet biting into his back
sending him tumbling down
his hot blood mingling with the icy snow
there he laid still
a red river running
from where the bullet had entered his body
he stretched his hand out and continued crawling forward
two and a half feet later his pursuers had reached him
yet
he crawled on
his frozen fingers almost touching the border
a barrel as cold as death was planted against his head
he looked up at the black and white blanket
that was the sky
the blanket he had slept under so many times
but tonight
for the first time
he noticed its beauty
He reached for the border for a final time
His fingertips just crossing it
then suddenly
hot metal and fire exploded against his head
creating a red painting against the canvas
that was the midnight snow
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