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


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