Mornings After
by Odin Roark

Sunrises remain,
but not as always.
for first light brings noises again,
voices,
metal on metal,
rock against rock.

Birds stay mum for now,
high in leftover trees,
where leaves of upper branches
hold fast their morning dew,
waiting out today’s quavers,
from tremors lurking deep below.

As fractured hearts beg to mend,
screams and cries of loss
vibrate painful echoes downward,
filling Nature’s tremulous air,
with man’s helpless defense
to aftershocks waiting.