In the Aftermath

The sirens are gone. The crying is done. The world keeps

on turning around the sun. The neighbors are quiet. They don't know

what to say. They just bring back food and then they walk away.

I'm standing in the kitchen. The coffee is cold. In this new

awful future I'm forced to hold. The dust is settling on the

floor. On a life that isn't here anymore. This is the

aftermath. The silence on the broken path. It's not the crash,

it's not the fall. It's the long slow echo of it all.