Ashes fly everywhere, in all directions.
They make my eyes sting,
and coat my flesh and cascade of hair.
My throat stings with pain,
as I see my house in ruins.
Fire, dancing a wild waltz of death,
among the bricks and ruined possessions.
Everything, buried beneath concrete.
Life squeezed out of the content souls,
that howl and holler in pain,
and jab me with their hands.
As dark ashes of death fall upon the land.
And I sink onto the rubble,
placing my head onto my knees; sobbing.
Then raise my head to the burning sky,
And give an animal scream.
And; I wake up,
my forehead matted with cold sweat.
It was all a nightmare, hush.
Or was it?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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