Written 6/20/07
Taken from The Black Book, my collection of poems.


The Rain-Runner

A chilly night.
A dark sky.
No moon to light the way.
The sky drips its drops of dark poison, one by one falling to the frightened ground.
Dry, dusty dirt slowly turns to slick, milky mud.
It churns in its thick prison,
daring one soul to cross its trap.

A tall man dressed in an earthy cloak runs from tree to tree.
The sky's tears hit his metal helmet with a 'clink'.
The man sweats with fear.
He breaths hard,
eyes darting from tree to tree.
With his killing machine in hand, he runs.
The thick trap awaits him.

While running, his tall boot slips in the churning prison.
He quickly breaths in, then falls to the milky ground with a short scream.
The only thing flowing through his frightened, crazed mind is:
-I can't be heard-
-I can't be seen-
He gets up to run for cover, but a load sound, like a lions roar, breaks out.
He feels the splintering spike of pain hit his chest.
It continues through the man like a knife, and comes to rest in the middle of his strong body.
He falls.
Not quite alove, but not yet dead.
The last thing he smells is the moist air, fresh with death.
The last thing he tastes is the cold poison of the sky.
The last thing he feels is the stillness within, for his body will never move again.
The last thing he hears is the roar of the second shot, aimed at his still, lifeless head.
The tall man's body lays in the slick, milky mud.
This one soul came to its trap, but did not finish the crossing.
The mud churns in its thick prison,
it has a new captive.