In the Crater

I am here
in this crater
Devastation in every direction
but up
And I can hear her crying

There is this little dirt fountain in the center
And cracks and scratches
radiate from it toward the rim
There isn’t a rock bigger than a pebble
There are these . . . I guess they look like skinny antlers
of blackened glass
Fused sand memory of the heat of the blast
No wait
There were clouds and . . .
Thunder
Lightning striking the Earth like an electric snake
A banshee scream

Seconds
It happened in seconds
Absolute devastation in seconds
Millennia will pass before the scars of this Armageddon are blurred

I drift about the blackened nightmare bowl once cauterized by Hellfire
And gradually realize that I have no idea why I’m here
Or how I got here for that matter
Who am I?
I mean
I’m me
but I can’t exactly tell you where or what me is
And for some reason I really don’t care
I wonder if this is some residual aftereffect . . .

It comes to my befuddled awareness
that there is a man of sorts
Drifting above the scorched earth
just off to my left
He is just at the range of shouting and
I can see him well enough
if I focus
He’s just standing there in the air
Staring off into the distance

I ignore him and continue my dazed
random sojourn across this desert place
He still hovers there
Always at about the same distance
I can feel him
but I feel no threat
Besides
how can he hurt me more . . .
My God
I’m hurt . . .
Hurt bad
Ouch . . .
Right here
and here
A little bit here
What the Hell . . .
I’m hurt

How did I get hurt
Was I here when this thing hit
I’d be dead
Am I dead
Do the dead fell hurt
Maybe you get to feel the last thing
you felt just before you died for all eternity. . .
I’m not dead
Don’t know just how I know this
but I’m not dead
I turn to regard the floating man
He isn’t dead either
Just hovering there with that daft grin
I wave
he waves back

I hear a breaking sound
it sound like bones breaking
The rocks are splintering in the deepest shadows
The Sun is setting beyond the lip
I guess that must be West
The bowl that is in darkness is cracking
and popping and . . . grinding I guess

In the dark
Tendrils curl up out of the earth
Dark smoky coils of darkness
Writhing up and twisting
like worms in a dead eye
A dark forest
Some twine around each other
some stand alone
They are all wriggling
and squirming
Undulating in waves
And my hand passes right through them
This is somehow comforting

I wonder if they are some alien
Life form that fell out of the sky
Nourished by the asteroid debris
that impregnated the earth
But unable to cope with the native elements

Has rain ever filled this crater
Wait a second
It has rained here
The water soaked directly into the ground
there were no puddles

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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