SCENT OF THE GRASS

The air was thick with the scent of the grass

And the humidity clung to our skin like a shroud

We were tracing the edge of the old streets

Mapping the shapes of a wandering cloud

There was no warning, no scream in the dark

I thought you were joking, a trick of the light

Waiting for laughter to break through the dread

But the evening went pale

and the world lost its sight

As the pulse in your wrist went as silent as lead

The wind didn't stop, and the birds didn't hush

The earth was indifferent to what had been torn

But I felt the weight of a terrible rush

The weight of a grief that was newly born.