THE EMPTY WAR
“They’re on the news again”, my little brother crows, unware
Of his own distorted figure on the screen behind him.
Same age, same height, but not the same endless stare,
Straight down,
At the sand only inches from his eyes
And just for a second the world stopped and stared and screamed,
Screamed at the horror of it all, at the very idea –
That could be us
Was all I thought, that moment
When I saw the strange silent people
Who Grief had stolen away from the rest of us
Then the second was gone
And the father,
Clutching the ashen heap
And frozen in his grief,
Stared straight at me, screaming judgement.
But I was too far away to hear.
16