what a dance of joy

with twists and leaps

whirling skirts and bare feet

through pools of newly fallen rain,

and the ruins of newly fallen home,

young girl squeals with delight

calling out –

“we can drink it, can’t we?

it tastes so good…

can we drink it, Baba?”

and the dead look on;

and the world turns away;

and i want to laugh,

but there are only tears

at smiles amongst the blood.