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May 2020
finally, their sirens cease.
                    wailing echoes fade
          into foreign silence

at first... everything is still

until the first cellar door tentatively
cracks open

very slowly those that are not dead emerge
eyes shielded from sunlight
             squinting at nature’s misshapen forms

lungs greedily gulp clean air

everything is changed
                    yet we are the same
Written by
Oli Stansfield
97
   MS Anjaan
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