After the storm
We were all blown to pieces,
nothing but ruins remained,
we could not even cry,
we were just stunned into silence
appearing like zombies
and walking like living dead
or dead ghosts among the ruins,
trying to collect at least our memories,
since our senses could not be collected.
We just had to move on and continue,
doomed to stay alive and carry on
in utterly impossible conditions,
having to submit to the relentless fact
that our survival was a miracle unheard of,
unbelievable as most improbably unnatural;
and we could not do anything about it
but to just accept the fact, submit to life
and make the best of it as something of a gift
most undeserved and unexpected
in the debris of our shattered world
which we just were obliged to start creating
all over again from the beginning.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Editors' choiceWritten on 2023-02-22 at 11:43
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