War happens
we contemplated,
as roots played with our hair
and dust shimmered
before our beatific gaze
like aurora borealis of a dull kind.
We played with it in our heads-
those holey shells
filled with the foggy night air
that too quickly did escape.
War happens
we thought,
as dried leaves crackled
beneath us-the sound echoed
our old woman bones
that are a-breaking
by the mere weight, the sheer spate
of ants as they climbed over our feet-
their little triumphs of height.
War happens,
we decided.
as the sky, swallowed from us
choked out one last
ink drop,
and the earthworms
coiling to settle in our ear
admitted they have seen their share
of people like you and me
whose stares,
and mouths distended,
fingers deep embedded
could not prevent
something-or wait,
is it 'nothing'?
from crawling from us
silent, unyielding-
without a backward glance.
