An Ending For a Generation Lost

And oh!

Hear the thunderous bombs

As they descend upon our land!

Falling fantastically in rhythm,

Like giant fists upon a synthesizer.

Perfectly in tune

With a solemn way to perish this day.

I hear them cry!

Oh, gather the school children about!

Let us not misstep

Along these trails towards the bunker not far ahead.

But we can hear them,

Trotting;

Marching about the schoolyard

In search of civilians.

And we must quiet the children –

Silence their panicked cries;

Soothe their little wails as they just follow us in confusion.

“Shh….”,

I calmly hum to the little crowd of toddlers.

“We mustn’t say a word,

Not a step too loud.

Now dry those tears

And soften those cries –

Hold it in like medicine.”

And that burning lump that lodges itself awkwardly in my throat,

Tastes bitter and sour as I bite my tongue

In a wayward attempt to not scream.

Holding my breath,

Barely breathing through my nose,

The sour numbness makes my mouth water.

The instinct to run amok in an irrational daze

Plays violently with my sensibility.

But I must hold on tight to those little ones’ hands,

For we are almost there –

I can see the doors to our safety just right up ahead!

“I believe we will make, dear children!”,

I sang out to them.

But alas –

A brightness flashed before our eyes like we had never seen before.

I watched as the ground rumbled,

As it ascended like a tidal wave,

For a mere solid second,

Only to swallow us up.

And into the ground we have fallen.

Fallen.