It was drawn in indelible ink
lined with demons from my past;
soldiers demanding a passport
to freedom I could not produce.
I sat many years at this border, searching
for the weakest link to break, finally
understanding they are intertwined
and all must fall together.
In indelible ink I begin to write
their stories ensuring them this
battle will never be forgotten
and for the first time,
among the fallen corpses
I can see the end of the line.
*Day 28 of the 2010 April Poem-A-Day Challenge. Today’s prompt: Write an end of the line poem.