Aubade
written by: Charlie Bottle
@CharlieBottle
where the dawn breaks
on quiet shells of apartment blocks,
hulls, upon hulls of concrete towers
empty, sheets fly from pulverized windows.
last night’s sirens are silent,
the birds have abandoned their nests
and, have taken shelter elsewhere,
as the sun creeps block by block,
extending shadows of a city,
that last night heard, and saw, death arrive
as drones of jets, and thermobaric rockets,
the silence is the silence of the dead,
none mourn, for the mourners, are cold,
covered in dust, eyes open in horror,
as once in Syria,
in Mariupol the sun traverses,
across a city in tears,
and somewhere in Moscow,
someone eats breakfast,
caviar served on blini, with quail eggs,
garnished with salt
of a Ukrainian family’s tears,
the blood of dead Syrians for paprika.
Dawn’s light moves slowly
across the azure, Azov Sea,
crosses loom, as large and dark
shadows on flaxen grass,
it has no business with tyrants and autocrats,
and a Russian mercenary gang,
named after the German composer Wagner,
somewhere from sunflower fields,
one hears the song “Slava Ukraini!”
with it the Sun marches
across battlefields to Ukrainian victory.
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