Death of a Raindrop in a Storm

We waited around the corner

With the weeds and the dying flowers of the roadside,

All of us, all of the mourners

Two hundred parallel arms and legs,

Black coated kindred

At the base of the hill

Like raisins left

Forgotten on a windowsill,

And the martyr came

He’d a car to his own

And we hoisted him on our shoulders

And sang him the war songs of yesteryear,

The weepers wept

Moans from somewhere near

Perforated by bursts of gunfire

As his friends took to shooting the clouds out of the sky,

The monotone of the Sheikh

The final accompaniment to this piece,

And then we buried him

And then we forgot about him.

2 thoughts on “Death of a Raindrop in a Storm

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