After the explosion
with the boldness of a thunderstorm,
smoky darkness dribbled its dust
across our faces. But I still saw her
through stinging, sandy eyes,
grabbed her right hand tightly;
in her left she still held her doll.
But when I wished to move
no movement came at all.
So we just stood there.
And held our breath.
Through the upturned dust, I saw them run - The ghosts of so many familiar figures, with no destination except the embrace of terror.
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