A great stab found its way into my heart,
as I felt my possessions being thrown from my hand’s grasp.
Fear had frosted my eyes,
along with the rest of my body.
I felt as though my body weighed one thousand pounds,
and my cloths were another five hundred.
My balance was torn from me.
I toppled for a moment,
hoping to gain strength.
I knew it was no use,
to even try a mite.
As my body started to sink,
my mind arose.
Not to brilliant plans of escape,
as it might have done weeks before,
but to review the last
minutes,
.
.
.
hours,
.
.
.
days,
.
.
.
weeks,
.
.
.
months,
.
.
.
years,
.
.
.
of my life.
No one seemed to care,
that I had so many burdens,
so many cares,
so many problems to endure,
all alone,
in this vast cursed world.
At last my hurled body,
had found the hard rigged surface that it waited for each time.
The screams,
the shouts,
all as boggling as a frightful blizzard.
Would I ever be rescued?
Shoved,
slammed.
Just one time?
The commotion was thick around me,
a blur I didn’t want to comprehend.
All the sounds and swirls slowed,
but one,
yet all still remained.
That one remained,
long and strong.
Ignoring all the rest.
Why would one,
how could one,
survive these wretched blasts?
Why for me?
No one else would dare.
Muffled footsteps,
muffled voice,
and yet how clear it rang within my ears.
My rescuer came,
without a knife,
without a gun.
My rescuer came,
with a gold trimmed book.
That gold trimmed book,
is now my gold trimmed sword.
-- kinza
january 30th 2008
