- nothing intact -

Seconds before the end,
like just before an earthquake,
a dog howled and a flock of seagulls
flew from above the roof.

I felt it too, all over my skin
and also deep within,
digging, as fast as I could,
to hide the treasured seeds,
that would allow me to rise
and grow from my shattered self,
one day.

Then, the whole world exploded
and I watched it all happen,
witnessing my own end.

In slow motion,
the books, once on the shelves,
opened their wings and flew.

Pens and pencils,
pins and paper clips,
erasers, old coins
and a plastic toy camel
crowded the air above my head.

A bottle of red ink broke,
staining the wallpaper.
I quickly interpreted the shape
as an atomic mushroom.

A plane crash on the ceiling
killed an imaginary pilot,
the universe was blowing up
and so did my whole room.

In the middle of the maelström
I recognized drifting pieces
of my splintered self.

Scatterings of questions left unanswered,
whirled together, with the tiny fragments
of a restless mind, that couldn't stand
answers left unquestioned.

I watched flowers turn
into thousands of butterfly-petals
flying around, slowly falling onto the ground.

There, at my feet, I discovered
on a thousand pieces of a broken mirror,
the puzzle of my innermost secrets.

A helpless child in a damaged place,
I found shelter under an old table.
Holding tight all that was left of me,
although it cut like broken glass.

I wept silently and I bled,
sitting still,
waiting for the storm to end.