We huddle beneath the dark curtains
psychedelic lights illuminating our walls
despite the dimmers––––––

and the silent hum of machines
whirring about outside
their blades cutting the night

day time would bring carnage
and so I prayed for light
never to come––––––––

murmurs and whispers from
solemn men whose eyes
were the only things I could see

clear blue skies inhabited
my blankest mind as we
lived our dying moments––––––––

and in the slipping warmth
the squeeze of my mother's hand
a smile and a whisper

momentary bliss
quiet and silence
before the war begins.