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Earth crosses her heart at midnight
Shaking loose dust upon battered edge
Scorn mocks the piercing night as daylight 
Moves swiftly with open jaws waiting for a fight.

I can recall the days when she was in full swing
Her heart used to glitter without fear, 
Moving rocks into ocean’s beds
Angry waves crashing beneath water sheds.

Strangers journeyed from afar and gazed
Pitifully at her crumbling walls, 
Little to say and much to be done 
Hope reluctantly harnessed along,
Elevating joy and misery above the blazing flame.

She presses eagerly to put out the fire that burns all night
Charring thin threads into perfumed air 
While pleading breathlessly in her heated bed. 
A thousand years has passed since she wed
Transforming dreams into nightmare and ruthless passion into scorn.

Night comes alive squeezing blood soaked veils into darkened night 
Inhabitants stormed the street breaking glasses, looting and shooting
Wounding gigantic heads and stirring dead bones from the palace of hell.

Sweet aroma seeps through broken chimneys
And flavors the stagnant air with spices of fear
Tired women kneading painful dough
Hastened to feed hungry mouths
Trapped under the pinnacle of hope.

The minstrel fires through the dusty streets 
And the murmuring crowd gathers around
to pay homage to the courageous souls
Whose blood stained the street on the deserted side of the town,
Little children marched along mimicking and singing funny songs. 

The men used to stay up all night strumming their guitars 
Smoking pipes and laughing loud in the middle of the night,
But now the streets are bare and empty stricken and laden with poverty
Garbage wrinkles the center of the town and everyone walked by without a 
frown. 
The streets bruised with animal carcass lay bare in the market places,
Flies marinating on dry bones and vultures scampering all around.

In the midst of this despondency young and old packed the street
Bargaining and selling eating and drinking and making noise with old cans.
Men squatted on the ground staring with budging jaws
Murmuring and chewing their priceless quat.

The days moved swiftly nights become noisy,
Tribal contention brewed in the atmosphere
Jobless youth parade the park seeking hope in the middle of despair.
But the city stands in ruin melting away each day
While their hourly prayers remain unheard and forcefully fade away.
 
                                                                  ©2014 Christine Phillips
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