The incendiary incidents escalate, too late
for Sister Mary Should’ve Told All.
The snow and ash and shrapnel fall
It’s beginning to look a lot like…
Someone will pay for her insolence,
the innocence assumed will not be exhumed
or extracted. The fact is that death does not allow …peace on earth.
Goodwill… will be buried! It is scary
for the children to see this carnage at such an early age.
It does not matter. They have no concept of god to which
Gunfire mires the remnants of civility
to a smoking heap of nothingness,
As the nun’s hands remain clenched
unsaid prayers will not help her now.
How can it help anyone?
I’ll be home for… a short while longer if I feel stronger or am ready to die!
Deafening explosions erase all memories
of a father’ voice…
of a mother’s touch…
so much for … dreaming of a white…
Milkflower petals mimic snowfall. The black dog’s in need of a
shroud covering, a blanket to hide all that remains.
Open, he declares.
No one dares.
No one cares.
Do not open until…in the air there’s a feeling…
No one survives!
And so this is Christmas, and what have you done?
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
for Aubade With Burning City, by Ocean Vuong