Thursday, April 9, 2015

THE WHITE CITY (Day 6 - "things are not as they appear...")

From a distance, the city
Glowed and shone in the sunlight;
Silver towers touched the sky
Like a glimpse of Paradise.
Not until you reached the gates
Did you notice it was hell.

A thick film of grayish white
Smothered everything. Ashes
Left behind from disaster;
Windows shattered, doors blown out
Empty automobile shells
Littered the once bustling streets.

An eerie silence haunting
Do the lost souls still remain
In the clouds of dust that linger?
Do we walk on sacred ground?
So many prayers unanswered
Only suffocating death.

Caren E, Salas

Sadly this poem was inspired in part by the events on 9/11. The photo is one I took of Los Angeles, which could have just as easily been a target of destruction. Although this is meant to be an Apocalyptic themed poem, I realized that at the time the thought had crossed my mind as well as (i'm guessing) many others'. Is this the beginning of the end?

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