Carcass

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