In the time that the smoke ate the sun,

Poison that blinded my eyes washed by tears,

Tears that fall from fear because we shall never have years,

Maybe days or if so lucky weeks.

 

The sirens yawn more than we can sleep,

The birds have left though the sky is filled with the flying things,

Fireballs glow brighter than any sun,

A sun lost beneath ash.

 

Around us the world dies in hate,

Painful rage that fills the oceans with blood,

I sail on them to you with love as my wind,

No hate for us, just us and love.

 

Climbing mountains of stone,

Jagged cliffs of destruction,

My shoes fall to pieces as concrete chews through to the bone of my feet,

Feet that will never stop carrying me to meet with you.

 

The explosions so loud that after we can’t hear our thoughts,

When our ears return, crying of the babies who survived,

Sirens that come after the blasts,

Those before are always too late.

 

It seems I was too late,

We never did have weeks, not even days.

The blood from my feet weep,

I take your hand, one last time.

 

I am too weak to move the building from you,

I hold your hand,

The day fades to night and in the black I hold on,

Your hand turns cold.

 

It hurts too much to even hate,

The hate will come,

Now, now its cold,

Just like your hand.

 

The love has gone along with you,

Now it’s cold,

Just like your hand,

But soon I can hate.

 

 

June 2024