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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