The Strike That Never Happened

They froze with the dawn

the sand hills silent

the motionless sea

mirror like the waters reflected the pain

of a static day


They froze with the dawn

and the fountain of light

became a portrait of nothing

framed by a secret hope

emptiness wandered alone on a static day


The pink light of the skies remained pink,

and the silhouettes of towers of scarpers and domes

remained silhouettes

all awaited your coming

and you did not come

only the tombstones breathed on that static day.

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