Burning frowns on faces of ash.
“They couldn’t have.”
Too smoky; too far;
Yet far too close.
Sick feeling in the gut.
“They saw it.”
Dark plans at work.
Looking for something to look for.
“They couldn’t think.”
Bare feet dangle over dangerous waters.
The Earth tries to fight back.
Two arrows; too young--
Just maybe.
The two young ones mutter:
“They think.”
Blurred intentions growl in the belly of the beast.
The two burn again,
Frowning from ashy faces.
Reasons for war were apparent,
While reasons for life were still unclear.
Varieties of closed eyes listen to names called--
They say:
“This is what you deserve.”
Enough.
Growling guts.
No respect remains.
Trouble brewing,
The beast rumbles.
No more.
Quiet and cold winter ahead,
No end in sight.
Names work their way into the breaking of hearts.
Happy at last,
Lost at sea.
Fighting nearby,
Too close to home.
Grim twitches of gunshots,
Violent to the ear.
Eyes fixed on the bodies.
Right minds on both sides,
Loss of moral compass.
Nothing else--
Just fire,
And burning faces.
About the Creator
Skylar Rella
visual & performing artist.
original art attached to written pieces.
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High Rise, Deep Impact
I have witnessed a death that I relive every time I step into an elevator. Although it no longer affects me as deeply—given that it's been 11 years since the incident—it remains a heart- rending memory from my first and last day as a paramedic. My initial call to the scene involved a man who seemed to have fallen down the elevator shaft of a high-rise building. Alternatively, it might have been that the elevator moved upwards while he was working on it. Different scenarios were being considered when I arrived.
By Penelope Henain3 days ago in Writers
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