When the Lights Fall in Paris

The lights fall silent,
and the bombs and the bullets
scream like sirens,
drive us into the rocks.

The lights fall silent,
liberty’s torch drowns beside
the children, tempest-tost
and dead on distant beaches.

The lights fall silent,
and the city sleeps uneasy.
We have all shut our gates
and said our prayers.

The lights fall silent,
and the children stumble.
The bombers laugh and smoke,
and we are (all of us) lost

lost in the darkness. 

Stephanie E. De Haven
Lafayette, LA, USA
Donated to NaNoWriMo Office of Letters and Light