Five hours
that\'s all it took
for shovels to bury a century\'s worth of futures.
Earth choked on names
that had been tracing hopscotch squares in the sun,
waiting for footsteps to tap.
White shrouds lay in a long, heartbreaking line,
camphor rising from their folds
fluttering slightly in the faint breeze
like they were trying to breathe.
Father\'s blistered heart
beat against his ribs like a fist
lowering his princess
into a cradle of clay.
She was lighter than memories
and he tucked her in blankets of rubble.
Mother\'s swollen eyes
held the redness of a sunset.
She knelt beside the mound,
fingers tracing faint outline
of tiny brows to soothe fevers.
Congregation of inconsolable chests
spread over a yard.
Soil fell softly,
a muted rain of dust,
each handful a goodbye
spilling from unwilling hands.
When the last miracle was laid to rest
the graveyard looked older
as though it had aged decades
in the span of an afternoon.