Bearers of The Blame

By Mia Miriam Sojan

She lays motionless, adorned in white,

With miniscule movements ever so slight.

The waves weep the sorrow of her loss,

Swallowing streets as it moves across,

Collecting the concern in others eyes,

Ignoring their screams and cries.

The wind rages in its grief,

Willing to deny yet unable to believe,

That the kindness it saw in human beings,

Didn’t extend to nature’s plea.

It uproots greed and makes things fair,

Dissolving lives into thin air.

The arsonous flame intertwines hope and despair,

Nothing in its path it bothers to spare,

It sets it's benevolent past ablaze,

As the wind whispers nature’s melancholy in a haze.

It burns archives of empty promises,

Hoping to liberate peace and solace.

The river wails till its sorrow runs dry,

The echoes of its lament, embracing its cry.

The ground swallows it's wrathful curse,

And through its mind loathe traverse. 

The rageful solemn finally ruptures,

When the world collapses losing structure.

They know she’ll rise from the ashes soon,

Like a reborn phoenix in the moon.

They await her rise and timely return,

Hoping by then, our mistakes we unlearn,

Though now her ashes fuel the flame,

If too late, when she rises, we’ll be the bearers of the blame.

By Mia Miriam Sojan