Crossing the Border

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.

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One thought on “Crossing the Border

  1. the stories that are hard to tell, and hard to hear, are the ones that must be told. Even through tears. You are not alone – but you don’t always know that until you tell your story.

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