I

a voice in the pocket of the outside crusader
screams in diluted darkness
crawling on blood flooding knees

from prison cell dead end canyons
crossing deep graved cave ravines
curtained by smoke and steamed mirror terrors

light burnt out under collapsing night
bound in the noose of lingering rope
tightly tied to faded flashlight demise

stretched synthetic wet-suit fabric
torn and unraveling into threaded anchors
leak cold salt water into a punctured spirit

torch batteries burnt fatally flat
the leather’d limb matchstick ember
whispers slow fatigued flat line breaths

bed of rock extended beyond
obstacle field crawling lengths
where metres faded into millennia

II

softer than a dandelion cocoon
a breeze sweeps from a hairline crack
roaring life into the cavity tomb

lifted from the empty lung
crushing stranglehold and inflated
floating onto clouds of feathered flight

crippled by fear of fatherless children
a second breath bounced from ropes
into seasoned soldier strength

jaws of death slumbers hopeless
dozed off by the anesthetic bite
fighting to escape the narrowing gates

unscathed and mightier he flees
from the enclosing fallen walls
with strengthening stories of power for all.