Screams echoing through
Empty hallways, crude barricades
The only defense –pathetic-
Against the onslaught of
Red-hot, burning lava.
It didn’t come without warning,
Oh no, they had warning.
They just couldn’t act on it,
Too poor to move, leave
Behind everything they have
Worked for and everything
They have just accepted as a
Fact of life. The great mansions
Are deserted, the richest having
Fled, abandoning the city
To seek safe harbor elsewhere.
But there were some,
Some who refused to leave their
Memories and life at the
Shot of a warning gun.
And so they still crouch,
Alone forever simply because
They couldn’t leave, indents in
The settled ash and hardened lava.
The dust collects on top of little
Boys whose mothers tried to
Shield them. And so they died
Beneath the safely of their mother’s
Arms, a not-quite-deserted city
And bodies whose family
Have forgotten about. So all that
Is left in this equation, I suppose,
Is a lost and harshly abandoned
City whose very inhabitants shudder
And awaken in their dreams, trapped
Under layers of dust and discarded memory.