It was a beautiful cross
In the middle of an open field
Littered with mines
Surrounded by mile high metal thorns
But there was a cross right in the middle
With beautiful flowers…in every colour
My only escape
Or maybe not
I could have leapt out into the field, head first
I didn’t want to lose a miserable limb
I wanted to explode into tiny bits of red, brown and pink
For it to all be over
I chose the cross instead, and he tied me to it with my consent
It wasn’t enough, they wanted me dead
I wanted to be dead too. But he didn’t
He knew I was confused and out of options
He knew i needed a haven
Disillusioned from famine and thirst, the smile on my face more hysterical, less genuine
Only he knew.
They shot from every side and ran out
Some ventured into the field and died by their own mines
One of them had come really close before his right side was blown away.
He looked at me and spoke through his bloodied teeth.
“He loves you”.