The Day

So many windows with faces splayed to look

At the chaos on the street below

A turmoil no one is able to understand

How could it have reached this point

Just open mouths agape

No sirens, no gunshots

Yet…

So many assembled in frozen tableaus

Eyes of disbelief

Arms flailing empty air

Other covering children’s eyes

From what few that age comprehend

Above…

Windows now raise

Faces of terrorized eyes

Shout down to the still life below

Appearing robotic

As they try and determine true north

In an alternate universe

Where this species’ craziness of conscience

Hasn’t arrived yet

Such might be the day in November

When our gift of sentient gifts ceases to distinguish

Us from a fallen rock or stick