Frantic

Long, slim fingers reaching up through the dirt.

How did I get here? Why was I hurt?

Clawing now, frantic….she smells her own blood.

Moving the rocks till she reaches the top, gasping-

She sucks in as much air as her lungs allow.

It’s dusk now, she looks up-

Burnt orange and red dragons flying in the sky…

A hand called wonder and confusion reaches out

They walk further into the night-her scorched beautiful, painful spirit

Erupting divinely into fire.

Questioning her one basic need need-reality.

Is this ethereal? She watches the bright glow of an explosion

Mushrooming in the distance-the night lights up and her light burns out…

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