PICK UP THE PIECES

[Dave]

Pick up the pieces  

It has come to this, the inevitable:
Not that anyone thought it would.
It just did, quietly, like a vulture
that hangs on a distant air current,
circling, the way all future history
circles the present, swoops finally,
comes to rest. Finally. On the dying. 

I remember waiting for the end of time
to explode out of an eastern sky,
raining hard upon familiar streets.
Instead the patient masses took down
The Wall and its self-satisfaction.
And we lost our special fear,
the one that built airtight domes
in movies in which the remaining few
could breathe finely filtered air
and ponder the strange tribes
hunkered in distant forests
circling infinite universes. 

Today without fanfare
forests catch fire,
waves consume cities 
and ice disappears
below the feet of bears.

[indar]

Hi Dave 

I'm guessing the line breaks should have occurred where there were no spaces between words. I anxiously await the poem in its intended form. On this guesswork read through I love it.

[Dave]

Thanks Indar. Sorry about the formatting. I had not noticed.

dave
 

[ajduclos]

Nice bit of writing, Dave.  A topical topic well explored, nice imagery.  I'll leave critiquing of format to those who actually have a clue.

Aj
 

[Colm Roe]

Enjoyed the read Dave. A timely poem.
Especially liked the vulture image.
Reminded me of aliens approaching in War of the Worlds...and ending with COVID-19
We live on a thin crust of rock floating precariously on a cauldron...but that's the least of our worries!