She climbed
Out of the debris,
Bruised.
Face smeared in soot.
A lone trickle
Of blood
Down her temple,
Dried, yet red.
Her clothes ragged,
Her chest bare,
She staggered
Towards shelter
As though dancing
To music
Of sirens that
Rent the air.
Collapsing in a heap,
She looked up
To the offer
Of a drink
Of water that
She sipped
And
Her lips
Curved into
A solitary smile
Of gratitude.
© Ram Varma @TheRKVarma