By Colby Klob
May 20th, 2018 - Greenville New York
Artus and Culture
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Blood and Snow.
I dreamt of snow
white as the sun
a surrounding area,
so distorted and full of noise
I couldn’t make it out.
Then the sounds became
vivid gunshots, screams of savagery,
soldiers shoulder to shoulder
at the ready.
Suddenly, I realized the snow, once white
was crimson and black,
stained with blood and mud.
I looked up from the corrupted beauty of the snow.
I saw dark eyes full of death.
He looked me in the eyes
from what seemed mere inches away.
Only when he raised his gun did I realize
he was on the other side.
I looked down into my own hands,
a long gun of my own.
It felt like a century.
I watched the enemy fire his gun.
I closed my eyes awaiting death's embrace,
but, opening them,
I knew I was alive.
In an instant, without any thought,
I raised my gun and fired.
The bullet met its target.
All sounds drowned out.
His coat, the color of the blood-stained snow.
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