An explosion at the bomb factory,
A likely place for one to be.
There are crickets.
Gentle October air.
Nineteen dead,
How many spared?
The Road of Returners
Is miles deep;
Between lifedeath sea and leveled earth,
And still marches forward.
Time again.
Relentless.
I am four and a half months unemployed,
Seventeen and a half alcohol-removed,
I remind myself it matters;
Even in the grand scheme,
Because it matters to me.
Listen!
Sighing Earth,
Shit-stained brick,
Peeling paint,
Shattered stars,
Blood-red sands…
The Road of Returners
Is miles deep
And still marches forward
Again.