Elegy For The East Poem by Jack Galmitz

The sound of fingernails scratched on slate
is the sound the sirens make
every hour of the day. It is never too late.

The objects fall in the shape of hate.
You would best make haste. There's just time to escape
the sound of fingernails scratched on slate.

Find cover for your children and your mate
in the rubble that was once a landscape
every hour of the day. It is never too late.

If you make it through the night call it fate
or luck. The world is not there for your sake.
The sound of fingernails scratched on slate.

Clear out the debris. Leave an open space
to pass through. There is no room for mistakes
every hour of the day. It is never too late.

The old are abandoned. They just wait
for someone to save them. Some shake.
The sound of fingernails scratched on slate
every hour of the day. It is never too late.