Monday, November 23, 2015

Awakening the Apocalypse

It’s 5 am. I wake to the alarm, the alarming
broadcast I didn't hear the night before.
It’s still dark. I often block out the news,
its political race, its hometown blues.
Fate has slithered around the trigger
of firearms, the pin of grenades and
the bodies of self-immolators who breach
borders to follow a labyrinth of blueprints.
Stars are splitting across the universe
in an empyreal display of transient madness
and instinctively lives spin in a state of angst.
Sleepless, not to dream, I only imagine
the unthinkable . . . more dead bodies,
a solemn crowd prostrated in horror.
I sit and sigh, spin the globe on my desk,
now old and shaky on its axis.
Fear swells in my fingertips as it slows down
at Baga, Paris, Kenya, Ankara and Paris again,
not knowing where it will stop next.
Robert J Savino
West Islip, NY, USA
Donated to International Red Cross

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