They all fall down.
The ashes fall lightly on me like dust.
I brush them off and they’re gone.
At this distance the fire’s still palpable.
The raging inside recedes.
I can watch as they try to flee.
I can watch as they try to live.
It didn’t have to be this way.
I didn’t want it to come to this.
But they wouldn’t leave me alone.
They wouldn’t let me be.
They’re bullies. They’re many.
They’re running out of time.
I don’t know how many will die.
No one knows.
Bodies count, ashes don’t.
This week’s post is inspired in part by the YeahWrite prompt, from way-way back on July 5th.
It’s also inspired by the wasps loitering with intent somewhere near my front door.
© Indian Macgyver 2017