pelted by a rain of bullets
buzzing from the planes’ bellies
I lie in the ditch
carriages and bikes,
lone dolls and shoes
litter the road
where a moment ago
a people fled
a distant rumble is heard
a beating drumbeat
from anxious clouds
suddenly the sun is out
like a curious child parting curtains
to survey the scene below
something like peace
descends on us
the sky is back to being the sky
the planes a distant memory
except for the cries for help
from writhing bodies
I offer my strength to the injured
my health to the dying
my hand to the orphaned child