Wet Ash & Black Soil

Her toes were squished together in her hand-tailored leather shoes;

Sewn tightly with large brown twine, and patches of cowhide dyed darker blues;



Young Olivia stood weakened from the overwhelming awe alongside her baby sister Jane;

The ground was blackened soil spread with piles of rusted metal, and muddy puddles of rain;



The moisture throughout the atmosphere were mixtures of iron and suet;

Clutters of all this industrial aroma led them to believe that life was simply, kaput;



Shock reigned supreme in their nerves just as the dictators upon their land;

Thus presents no contest between ivory towers, and those which were created from sand;



Acidic debri flutters into the sisters’ eyes as the wind flows still free;

The burning shriek from Jane overcame the chilling temperature’s degree;



“I want Mama and Papa!”, Jane shouts without knowledge of their death;

Sadly, Olivia was there to witness their desperate, frightful last breathe;



“There is no more”, as Olivia’s words struck towards Jane’s ringing ears;

“ We must move on, and leave it all behind, the hopes that failed to trump the fears”;



Skys that once were reflections of clear waters now a dark gloomy gray;

Buildings torn to the floor boards, bricks strewn where forever they shall stay;



Silence, which once was a peaceful virtue our kind daily wished for;

Was now a curse not a single parent would wantonly adore;



Clocks remained ticking, though not a single soul watched;

Food became a precious gem that the sisters only found rotting in pots;



Along came a calvary of fascism and man;

Due diligence has titled itself with greed as its brand;



No birds poised in the branches singing songs of pure love;

Only wet ash that sticks on the dead leaves above;



So slept the sisters whose' past was full of delicate solemn;

Since then, they trek quietly as they fast along with the fallen;



-to be continued...