Quaking War Zone

A poem

Photo by NOAA on Unsplash

Shock of falling homes while sleeping
collapse, crush, death does not discriminate
Earthquakes decimate, destroy, deconstruct
Thirty-three thousand dead and counting

A newborn baby rescued brought
the mother back to life, 
such is the power
of motherhood
yet such is rare, dying asleep
in their beds, expecting a dawn to wake them

Morning unveiled the dead and dying
the wailing of grief and loss, the suffering

Earthquakes strike, and leave a country struck
Hunger follows and dirty water next

Some say it is nature’s way of controlling the population
Not like famine which is man-made until now
with extreme weather events, floods, fires, freak
events, all man-made, but not the quakes

I lost count of my Earthquakes, so many in all
twenty-five seconds was the longest, under a table
stand in a doorway, shelves falling down, don’t go out
Never anything like this one, mass murdering

Published in The Lark

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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