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Deja Vu
Threat of late Spring rain,
against the chalk scrawled blackboard,
shower of bullets.
Teachers throw bodies
splashing over stunned students
last lectures of love.
Deja vu moment
longing to erase the vision,
empty desks bloodied.
Small hands held crayons,
drew pictures of smiling suns,
parents hug drawings.
Across the screen names,
biographies of short lives,
flash of photographs.
Once more tears of loss,
Rage at those who value guns
over small faces.
Repetition reigns,
neglected mental illness,
Spring day of sorrow.
On their knees, parents
praying for innocent souls
drifting towards heaven.
Teddy bears, balloons
candles flicker at night-fall,
handwritten letters.
A child lays flowers
holding mother’s shaking hand
whispers, goodbye, friend.
Among the Remains
I shuffle through ashes,
grey flakes stick to my shoes, my pant legs.
Stench of fire, of rotting flesh, of powdery residue,
floats above the ruin in a fog-like cloud.
I have seen this in my nightmares.
Large rectangular foundation filled with rubble,
what’s left of our four-story apartment building,
collapsed from constant bombardment.
I stumble through ruins naming occupants:
some dead, others fled...to somewhere.
I recite prayers from my childhood,
mix Ukranian with Russian.
I kick the legs of a charred chair;
it disintegrates around my ankles.
Red embers smolder beneath fractured pillars,
glowing like eyes of the devil.
I burn my fingers on a metal button,
sad remnant of someone’s clothing.
I inventory the remains:
a corner of a photograph lacking an image,
scattered documents, books with burnt edges.
grotesquely twisted bicycle frames,
shattered crockery, a panel of empty mailboxes,
shards of glass from windows, mirrors, vases...
My heavy shoes break the crust. Then...
something soft, afraid to look, I hold my breath...
Only a child’s stuffed bear missing a leg,
covered in soot, white fur turned black.
In a singed refrigerator,
my nose assaulted by the smell of moldy food,
there is nothing fit to eat. But, thank God,
precious liquid, three unopened cans:
beer, soda, tomato juice.
I must find my mother,
she is so thirsty.
In an Instant
Everyday, somewhere
a man with a gun
occasionally a woman or a child
mows down a clutch of unsuspecting victims
In an instant
hearts stop beating
lungs expand in a final expulsion
rooms exhale in silence
Everyday, somewhere
police receive urgent calls
outline blood-stained bodies with blue chalk
map carnage with yellow tape
In an instant
classrooms become crime scenes
blackboards pocked with bullet holes
playgrounds turn into morgues
Everyday, somewhere
a parent receives a call from an unfamiliar number
incomprehensible pronouncements
pray it is not their child
In an instant
families break in pieces
text messages flash from friends
strangers post announcements on social media
Everyday, somewhere
families and friends file past closed coffins
communities rally with unanswered questions
politicians call for gun control that never passes
In an instant
photos of victims outlined in black
memorials of flowers and balloons
candle light vigils at twilight
Everyday, somewhere
a poet, in an effort to comprehend
the randomness of the dice
pens words, stanzas flow
no answers emerge
Everyday somewhere In an instant....