The Marksman

by | Jun 2, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

I hold my rifle as I lie here on the ground
It is firm into my shoulder
My right hand grips the pistol grip
My left hand holds the stock

I line myself upto my target
A natural line from me to my weapon to my target

I look through the sights
The three point relationship is there
My eye to the pointer and onto the visible mass of my target

I start to breathe in and out
The pointer it rises and falls through my target
I hold my breath and exhale slightly
I am perfectly still and I can feel my heart pump

I pull in the first pressure
My trigger goes tight
A bit more pressure and my weapon goes bang
The shot is released and hits the target
I let out my breath for I have just issued out death

For I am not on the range
And my target is not a figure 11
It was a man
What have I done?


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