Sander Roscoe Wolff

Fragments
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©

Drawn from the chest, the breath extracted,
Light throws the head back, hot breath exhaled.
It knows the insides, the secret places,
It burns away the remnants of complacency,
Dissolves the I, until the powdered ash is laid,
Like a shroud, over everything.

A pulling apart, a pulse and a wave,
Pushing through obstructions,
Limitless for an instant.
In that frozen, scorching moment the clarity we sought
Comes unbidden, unwanted, unwelcome.
We duck and cover, tuck and roll, but still it comes,
Death’s cold hand on our shoulder.

Broken on the inside, beaten and dragged screaming from the
Ruins, we grasp at shadows, cry for others and then ourselves,
The missing pieces sometimes never found.
Fragments, only fragments, remain.
Ears ringing, eyes closed tight, we wish ourselves back in time
But nothing ever changes.
Only fragments remain.

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