down here among the ruined and the rising

I am alien
and the children cannot understand
tears at the comic absurdity of hope

nor the sight of skin thin like paper
covering old peoples' hands folded in prayer

they cannot comprehend
the ferocity of newborn cries

nor the fearful stillness of expectation and Waiting

down here among the glowering bell towers

the silence is apoplectic
and it covers both the Quick and the Dead