One

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Watercolor by Claire Scott

When what movements mortals make

Are next to none,

When what sounds escape forsake

The unsung truth,

When error muddies the sun

But not your youth,

Move them with your love so sweet.

Believe without retreat.

 

Numb

She was silent.

He was still.

Skies played melodies of flame over their heads,

Hair so close to being singed.

And with the nights came a swirl of reds

Soaked in the earth’s secrets unhinged.

They never looked up to see-

Never saw what could be.

Just shy of flashpoint-

Flyaways.

Roaring flames and dull crowns-

Disjoint.

Bodies warm.

Eyes cold.

Lives lived.

Nothing t’behold.