Ash and bone topped with snow,

But not the snow we know,

Snow that suffocates so,

Perched a prying crow,

Dark eyes as deep as night,

Naked trees speckaled white,

Togetherness never so bright,

Only because they had to fight,

Against such biting cold,

The sun downpours through

Smoke,

Smoke and cold mixed with

Snow,

Not a memory you’d want

To hold,

Then appeared another crow

Set on a rope,

Patiently awaiting for their

Next meal,

Watching the scene below,

Such togetherness they

Never thought they’d know,

Yet they couldn’t give thanks,

They couldn’t be greatful,

Do you wonder why?

Held in unity, they were, but

There were still those that died,

Amongst the bodies and ash,

Patiently sit the crows,

Carnivorous creatures sitting

Upon a high throne,

Witnessing it all,

Caring too little,

But such patience they carry,

In those steadfast, keen eyes,

They would be even more

Beautiful if they cared for

Those that died,

Amongst the ashen beauty

Lay the aftermath,

An unrelenting storm that

Attacked so fast,

A storm of heat and flame,

Set everything ablaze,

People’s faces reflecting

The colors of fires absent

Grace,

The struggles of man put

Above such nonexistent

Praise,

Arms linked and skin charred,

Bowed heads in feeling pain,

So much lost,

And at what cost?

Why do such merciless storms

Exist?

Little girls look to their mothers,

“What is the purpose?”

“What have we done to deserve

This?”

Such destruction, an overflow

Of ash and bone,

Broken houses topped with

Icy flakes,

And crows feasting on the

Flesh of the remains of a

Face,

No, how can there ever be

Such beauty amidst tragedy?

Destruction has one again,

It seems, hasn’t he?