We are surviving.

My nose clogged with dust and scorched flesh

I keep clearing and blowing but I can’t rid myself of the stench

Like pitch sticking to the walls of each breath

I cough and I retch, I try to see what is left

Face paint smearing as I wipe it from my brow

I lift myself up off the ground and open my eyes

Bloodied and broken, there is a word spoken

Through the haze, my mother’s gaze is caught

A fire in her eyes, and now, a courage in my heart


We are dying.

The fires remain fresh as the matches catch onto the ashes

Licking and leaping, creeping towards my mattress

Acting as if in desperation the flames keep coming back

Frozen in time, frozen in fear, I hear her voice nearby

Ignoring the crackling, I clear my my mind and try to find her

Underneath every chosen step, the wood gives way


We are fighting.

The candle lingering dimly beneath the window

The light ******* of the piano, hand over trembling hand

Faint whispers of a widow as she sings with what life she has

My nails tapping along the sill but not quite in rhythm

There is a light swiftly spreading over the hills off in the night

I turn and look to my mother as she plays the final note

She struggles to smile as her lips begin to drift away with the smoke


We are alive.