Battle's End

Spiritual siege gasping its last,
I glimpse the distant light
while fever assails this
body of clay,
outrage assisting the purge
of illusion,
soul's blinding blight
acquired while attempting
to disarm the landmines
of a dissonant tongue.
While I sweated,
bowed low in the field,
sprays of gunfire
pockmarked the air,
scrambling my instincts,
piercing my ears,
twisting,
pulling,
gouging something away
until there was a hole,
a hole sprung wide in my soul.
A labor of love, yes,
but somewhere on that battlefield
between earth and sky
ran an invisible thread of steel
strung taut like a tripwire --
barbed, charged,
and waiting.