An Old Poem

Postcards from Germany
by Michelle Atencio

Cutting through cities
like a wall of wildfire
all near are burned and scarred.
The poisonous smoke is not clearing.
Red eyes well up
at the sight of fading stars.

Rapidly, the fire spreads
taking generations in its path.
Brick by brick, disaster marches on.
Victims look upon the crimson
crosses, listening to their numbers called.

Expecting relief, surprised screams echo
in steaming showers.
All hope inhales, sorrow
streams down red earth.
Nauseating smells of rot and singe fill
the air like the breath of death.

Thunderous protests began
approaching, extinguishing the flames,
while trails of boot prints
on the muddy earth show remnants
of the fallen reign.

Rising in the west, the lost sun beams.
Again there is a heartbeat, the few remaining
survivors begin to heal.  Scarlet scars grow faint,
souvenirs of their pain.