The Aftermath

Wrote this poem sometime during the last (6th) semester. Had taken a creative writing course under Rebecca ma'am. It was fun exploring different aspects of poetry under her, hope that affects my poems in a positive manner.

In this time,
the gravest of all,
lie the leg and the rod,
still and stern.
A hand turns out,
from the rubble;
some grasping breaths.
The eyes hopeful,
of finding someone alive.
Some albums,
the celebrations,
lie trampled in furniture,
Some toys swept away
by the waves,
of loot, of loss,
of disaster.
But those days,
will return,
bustling streets will emerge
amongst the
still rubble,
and homes resound,
with the laughs,
that will defeat,
the silence
that prevails today.