The weather calm and clear: the Boeing
on final approach for landing
abruptly rolled on its side, nose-dived,
plunging straight into wild woods.
A deafening boom shattered
the quiet of the evening;
a fireball with black smoke
climbed up in the sky
in the dying moments of the day.
Bodies, metal shards tossed up,
settled down again
in the smouldering debris;
torsos, blown into smithereens,
were scattered all over the terrain.
Rescue teams arrived,
swung into action; but no survivors -
all abroad had perished
in a bizarre moment,
leaving only flames to be doused.
Among the dead was a small girl
returning with her parents
from the funeral of a departed one.
The charred remains,
now stored in the morgue,
would await so soon her own funeral,
she never knew.
* with acknowledgement to an old newspaper story
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem