...tick...tick...tick...
the little clock chimes.
...tick...tick...tick...
sweat rolls from brows.
eyes cry their last tears.
families share their last embraces.
...tick...tick...tick...
people exclaim in despair:
'why us?
what have we done to deserve a death as awful as this? '
hostages to a madman bereft of choice.
and second chance.
...tick...tick...tick...
hands claw at gold stars embroidered over hearts in crazed and vain attempts to rent them from their clothing.
these beautiful symbols of their faith, now hated and thought to be responsible for thousands of lost souls.
...tick...tick...tick...
hearts accelerate as minds count down to their demise.
...tick...tick...tick...
...11...10...9...
children cling to their mothers with iron-clad grips.
...tick...tick...tick...
...8...7...6...
women and men lose all ability to silence their ragged breathing and bay the look of horror in their eyes, frightening their precious offspring even further, flinging them into near chaos.
...tick...
...5...
'mommy? '
salty tears stain clothes, faces and floors.
...tick...
...4...
'yes baby? '
a silence falls, still and brittle.
...tick...
...3...
'i don't want to die! '
genuine fear makes the already feeble voice heartbreakingly miserable.
...tick...
...2...
'i know.
i don't either.'
gentle hands smooth the boy's hair.
the mother kisses his pallid forehead and whispers true words of affection to her one and only child.
'i love you.'
'i love you, too.'
...tick...
...1...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You nailed that one quite well.