Interlocking fingers of
Wire, coarse and thick,
Wrapped, bundled,
Spiked and spiralled,
Mile on endless mile.
Like pylons in the desert.
Searing the land:
From skyline to eyeline.
Endless divide.
Binding you to –
one side –
And me another.
Parallel lines drawn in dirt,
sand, snow, grit,
Blood.
Saltwater laps the edges,
Melted ice blurs the bounds,
To the land I’m allowed to stand in,
The ground I am owed,
It can’t be bundled up and carried on my back.
Once they spit you out,
They don’t take you back.
My fingers catch in the wire,
Your gun butts me out.
The world behind me burns so hard
It’s ash
The world in front
Is caged.
The lines are drawn.
No man’s land
Is what I own.
EmilyCracknell 