An interpretation of Simon Armitage's 'The Manhunt'
The nights of fire and days of sun
Yet still in my ears, the spark of a gun,
In memory alone do those battle fields exist
Attempting to run from their clutches and resist,
Today, I eat and feel the throb in my jaw
The once broken bones in my now muzzled maw
Today, I stretch and wince at the pop
That sound was once of a broken collar
Today, I reach over and find the scars on my arms
Proof that I lived. Proof that I broke.
Breathing in the summer air, my lungs smile.
They're not drenched in fire.
Breathing in the aroma of dinner, my ribs sigh.
They're no longer bound by soaked scarlet cotton.
No longer do I feel ashamed,
Of the fact that I was once maimed.
No longer am I the man,
Who once cowered at the face of men.
My arm rises to salute,
But is brought back down to shake.
I trace the scar of my chest.
The same very one that let me rest
Without it, I would still be in battle
Confining it all in a bottle.
I fall asleep after a day of fun,
But still in my ears, the spark of a gun.