Art by Mark Bryan
The winds, starts to rattle the grey shudders violently
As it smacks feverishly, against the rattling windows,
Lightning so fierce, it streaks across an angry sky,
Then grumbles louder than the thunder that preceded,
A man rushes down the stairs, knocking over a lamp
And pushing aside a chair on his way to the shelving unit,
Resting on one of the shelves, is a framed snapshot of the family,
He grabbs it, punches the glass, takes the photo,
Then finds the car keys, resting on the table in the shallow light,
Cast by the over casting doom, fear overtakes him
As he yells out to his family, to hurry their task,
For the impending future, stampedes toward them,
He yells again, as he heads towards the window
And finds the two rolling horsemen of the world’s demise
On the approach, and their only chance of survival,
Was beyond their home, to which he yelled one last time
Before the entire family rushes out, together, all at once,
They pack the car, with all they could shoulder,
Kicking the dirt up, they sped away from the rampage,
A little easier to breathe, until the home they loved,
Where they built their family, was so easily picked apart,
All they could do, was trek ahead, hoping to survive,
The road was silent, as they passed through abandonment,
Even inside the car, not even the white noise of silent air waves,
He started to relive fond moments, it was where he fell in love
Many times, over and over again, with his wife
And their two kids, engraved, into those homey walls,
That no longer echoes the past, those intimate moments
Is shipwrecked, by the tidal wave of this apocalyptic end,
He looks over at his wife, struggling to find his voice,
“Do you think, we will ever rediscover ourselves,
Here, in the mist of what was, hiding from annihilation,
Will we ever rest, the fear gripping us, and lay upon soft grounds,
Or does it even matter, as long as we can huddle together.”
She speaks, within them, while looking back at the children,
“There was a promise, we made after our protracted conversation,
But you haven’t held up your end, not yet, there’s still time.”
He looks back towards her, then back to the emptiness,
“I don’t know if I can, what happens afterwards,
The unknown road, that will lead us to the next phase of life,
I want to remember all of us, you, in your bathing suit
Running around after the kids, as I play the announcer,
And after catching them in your arms, we all pose.”
“The same bathing suit, I’m oddly wearing at this moment.”
Suddenly he notices it, the same outfits in the still,
A winter chill, grew inside, as he let those words vibrate,
Why is she wearing the same exact suit from the picture,
He pulls over suddenly, swerving, stopping yards away
From a new set, of this impending conclusion,
“You did it, you went through with what we discussed.”
“There’s nowhere we can run, that’s why we decided to die together,
In our own way, beyond what was trying to keep us apart,
I understand your fear, after seeing our deaths,
But you can still find us, after you jump into the void.”
He pulls the photo from his pocket, they’re living in that moment,
And that’s where he should be, once he shuts his eyes,
He sees the engulfing black swirl of doom approaching
As he stares into the eyes, of the one with tattered wings,
A wad of tears, choking his words, he whispers to her ghost,
Looks calmly down at the passenger seat, backseat
And behind his, smiles, a tear held in the arch of his curved lip,
Takes a deep breath, in the knowing, they are simply, not there.
Dorian Poe 2019
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