A Swim In the Dam
The sun baked down on our Karoo town
It is dryer than dry; not a cloud in the sky.
No one in the street.
Nothing moves in that heat.
It is the end of the school holidays
Nothing to do; too hot to play,
Except to swim in the farmer’s dam;
Hoping we will not be told to scram
Before we can dive in
For that cooling swim.
Down the road, through the fence
We laugh, with naughty jubilance.
Through the bush, to the dam
Excitedly we run.
Shirts and pants off in a flash
Into the water, we dash and splash.
But happy times must end too soon.
As we walk home in late afternoon
There is a snarl, there is a growl
Two Dobermans are on the prowl
They block our path from front and back
Preparing for attack.
Our only hope, to turn and flee
In the distance, a single tree
We do not wait, we spin around
And race across the open ground
They catch up quickly and try to bite
As we scream out wildly on our frightened flight
The moment sharp teeth sink into my thigh
I know I am going to die.
My flesh is ripped,
To the bone is stripped
I stumble, I fall
I try to crawl.
Blood pours onto the dusty sand.
I am alone, not a helping hand.
Why?
Why me?
Why is this happening to me?
I am too young to die.
Brutal teeth are the last I see
As they clamp, and tear though my eyeballs.
Then darkness, I am blind
I scream in terror at my plight
At every crunching sound, at every painful bite
I can smell the stench from jaws as they rip
And taste the salt of blood from my torn off lips
Strong paws claw.
Jaws grind, chew, and gnaw
My flesh with fierce ferociousness.
I drift in and out of consciousness
There is no bottom to the dark depth of my despair
I cannot move or see, but only feel and hear
The chewing, crunching teeth on bone
And feel the helpless fear that overcomes, now hope is gone
Will this gnawing never cease?
Please God kill quickly, give me peace.
The pain is neither here, nor there
But everywhere
Yet, I do not care.
I know, that only when I am dead, the pain will cease.
Only then, will there be peace.
Slowly it comes.
Life’s agonising light turns into the darkness of night.
The snarls become a song. Soft music in the air
A world without care.
Then I am gone
Copyright © Patrick Maitland | Year Posted 2012
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