Saturday, April 28, 2012

An Evening In the Village

Things have been tense.
But, it is quiet,
For the moment.

As you are going about
Your evening
After supper,
Before your prayers,


Staccato bullets fill the air
Splintering holes appear
In the walls
Dishes shatter on your table
Glass falls away from your windows.
Quicker than a flash of terrible light
Everyday illusions are gone.

Your family!
A jagged jungle
cacophony of screams!
Tangles of arms and legs
Dive for the floor,
Cower under beds and chairs.

Fear sucks the warmth
From your body.
Everything contracts
To the pupils in your eyes.
You barely notice the
Harsh rasping of your own breath,
The motor-race
Of your vulnerable heart.

The world suddenly shakes
With a satanic roar.
The blackest, foulest smoke in the world
Fills all space;
And when it clears,
Your wife is a scrap of bloody dress.
Your children are torn to death.
Your home is a hole in the dark ground.
You are lost to the howling winds...

Because they are fighting
Over which side has the right
To call your city,
Your street,
Your life

1 comment:

  1. Wow, David... glad you are writing new work! You capture the moment of terror as a peaceful family falls victim to an obscene violence. Syria? Darfur? Oakland?
    Could be any of these or any of the examples that are doubtless yet to come.
    Keep writing.