Smoke

And I look up at the sky
Hoping to see
What was never there, 
What never existed.

A blue sky made with freedom
White clouds of love
Little birds, who've just learnt to fly
Spreading their little wings, soaring high...
But I see
The Bomber plane
Flying across a sky black with smoke
Created to kill.

I look around my city
And I see a wasteland of shattered dreams.

And I feel so alone

I go around the marketplace,
My friends house
Nothing remains.
I'm too scared to look at the
bodies scattered along the streets
Severed limbs, a corpse without a head
Afraid I will see a familiar face.

I wish I hadn't come back.
But then, I had to. I had to.
To pick up the pieces of what was left behind.

And then I heard it,
a faint cry,
a sound made, just to be sure of its own existence.

And I knew why I had come back,
A baby in a plastic bag.
It had somehow survived.
Delicate, fragile, barely, barely breathing,
But alive.

I looked around at the wasteland of death
And picked up the only thing living
For even I was dead inside.
I held it close to my heart,
And found the hope I was looking for.

I looked up at the sky again,
Black with smoke
Hoping to find myself somewhere beyond...

Reviews

[...]

it s very sublime and tender. i like it your poetic style. even there is some dark passages . there is still something like hope . well done

[Orizielle]

thank you! That was what I meant to say, I guess. That in-spite of everything, hope is never lost

[...]

yes never hope is always with us.

[jaybeth]

The words evoke silence and despair , they paint the picture of a broken and battered world, however the mention of the child brings succour to the broken heart. Good job friend.

[Orizielle]

Thank you so much! That was kind of what I was aiming at. The child represents hope for a new and better world. I'm so glad you liked it. :)

[A.L.]

You did well in the wording, I can just see the ash and brokenness; the disturbing silence. Thank you for posting, it was a great read.

[Orizielle]

Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it. :)