Limbs torn; a broken doll occupies a littered street.
Abandoned buildings / mouths gaping open wide.
Homes in ruin. Footprints hurrying / seeking sanctuary.
Interrupted lives / falling into ashes. Scraps of dreams
left behind, the enemy advances. Hope, a word that
does not exist among the slain. Black asphalt rains
from above. Devastation is complete. Beyond the dawn,
neighbors’ hands held out across the storm. The
casualties of war linger in hot air along with bleeding
wounds. Doves sprouting from plumes of smoke.
Scraped knee & broken heart / forced to grow
up too soon, the little girl cries out “Moya ihrashka.”