It seemed the pain had lessened as I fell into the light.
The dull wound-ache in my chest was fading fast
And now I had relief from the never-ending fight.
Knife-sharp fear replaced with soft release at last.
Mere words cannot convey the dread-stained terror
Of a wand held high and death behind it, grinning.
And thoughts cannot grasp the life-stopping error
Or a Dark Lord sated, wild on glory, winning.
I cannot give voice to the white noise of my soul
As it’s ripped with ease from my flimsy flesh and bone.
Nor can I hope to evade those eyes of burning coal
As the rumbling of my ill-timed demise flies home.
The green vision of lightning flashes sure and fast
And I know without knowledge that the pain will grip.
I know that too-soon I will breathe my last
For claws of iron will tear at me as I begin to slip.
But pain is a fleeting sensation, hard and swift.
The killing curse a missile that will not fail.
And even before it has begun I feel the lift
Of a swansong pulling me towards the veil.
And death will die a thousand times
While I will face it one time only.
And as I hear the gentle chimes
Of a bell discordant, ringing lonely
I know that death has lost dominion
Over me and the future set before me.
No longer am I an earth-bound minion
Instead I head for far, far greater glory.
Avada Kedavra by Magical Maeve
Chapter Notes: I owe a huge debt to Siegfried Sassoon, Rupert Brooke and Wilfred Owen. Without them, I would not have the appreciation of poetry that I have.