via Daily Prompt: Territory
The fields halt at the very border of this winding road,
sharp and deep as a razor’s cut or phone call late at night.
The deer will let you come within some thirty yards all told
before a flicker of a tail is prelude to their flight.
Concrete bunkers in the wood are heaved up by the earth,
telling tales of times when buckled world was ripe for conquest,
a shameful time for countrymen, they now give a wide berth
as I wish to for the sadness, that’s living in my breast.
Even though I understand that nothing in here is mine
I wonder how the world can function as he slips away
for grief is a dark country with no clearly charted line.
A territory still unmapped, and so shall always stay