Act

Feb. 19, 08
Frenzy!
Crashing!
Burning!
All before closed eyes

The bomb!
Air never felt so brutally oppressive
Debris slices through skins of many
Fire engulfs carrying the hoard of evil
Adding the chorus to air already roaring
Screams start to follow;horses wounded
The bomb!

The Saviour...
She survives. But she is dead. Dying.
Cannot even grip the little boys hand
The boys hand she grabbed before
To fly him over the rail, he had wings.
Her wings were burnt on feral flight
The Saviour...

Fading!
Ceasing!
Buried!
As they close her eyes

She cried when she was alone

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We have everyday villains, we have every day heroes. And, yes, we have every day victims.
Is it fair of herself... ourselves ... to feel guilty about survival? Is it fair not to?Is an acknowledgment enough for the thousands dying?... Dying
This is an honourer for the Act, someone who couldn't save everyone, but who saved one.
And a memoir for the ones who feel the guilt of living, how the self induce suffering.
And remember:
You are nothing to the world dead, but you can be something to the world just breathing