silent scream

the collective soul of a nation
cries
in sorrowful moans...
panic stricken existence
beats a syncopated tune of disbelief.
possessions robbed by the power
contained in the surging salt.
alone she sits~
though many shall claim to rescue her~
needing the comfort contained
in the most simplistic of devices...
a touch.
that which once meant all,means nothing.
the only thing tangible now~life.
they wailed like a rusty trumpet,
the horns and sirens did,
and she awoke in a flash,awoke in awareness
yet dazed and secluded.
liquid hell exchanged person for person.
...now she waits and weeps.
a haunting bellow that tears at the core
and pulls compassion
from the abyss of decay.
a fragile silhouette
frozen in time by the snap,whirrr~
mind of minolta...
she is the modern incarnation
of napalm,
the essence of what is not seen.
once again the images scream
but will anyone feel?