by Jan Spence

Molten vermillion orb hangs low
over the waves just off-shore

watching frenetic survivors claw through dusty
rubbled ruins in search of their beloved,

listening to the crescendo
of their grieving shrieks,

feeling the weight of nameless
battered bodies heaped in unmarked graves –

the holocaust a result
of Tectonic plates jockeying for position.

Does the sun ask why?

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