Sirens wail across the city
A rush to the shelter, a dark musty cellar
Where old and young will huddle
Next to black coal and dry firewood
The stash of fuel to cook their meagre meals
And warm their feet in winter
Some seem brave enough to even joke
Or joke to hide their fear
Others finger the rosary beads
Muttering “God please spare us”
While the dreaded drone drones nearer
The steel birds above ready to drop their
The house is near the railway line
Near the target, a miss can strike them
So they’re praying as bombs start
Whizzing, while the rumbling’s
Drumming, while the walls are
Dancing, dancing the dance of war
The Dance of Death
Now old and young alike are trembling
Shaking like the walls around them
Trembling, shaking, praying
In the musty darkness
As bombs are
They all are
© irina dimitric 2013
A poignant poem.
Thank you, Anita. I still vividly remember those terrifying moments. I was 9 years old.
it must have been terrifying, especially for a 9 yr old child…not knowing if the next bomb would extinguish life…you gave us dark terror that many never experienced…good write, Irian
Thanks, Richard. It was terrifying. When peace was restored, I naively believed it would now last forever. This belief was very short lived: Hiroshima plunged us into a prolonged fear of atomic war and complete annihilation of life.
Congrats Irina for another great poem. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Violi, for your kind comment. I appreciate it very much.