Weeping Roses

The glass shatters outward like all the dreams of the people inside have broken, jagged shards dance in the air, floating like splintered snowflakes as the pieces catch the sunlight and reflect it in blinding flashes.  Silence fills the air, empty save for the heavy noise that echoes in the stillness of the impact.  Plaster, cement, wood, plastic …debris of all sorts, razor-sharp chunks of a broken whole, blades invisible for the diminutive size showering over the pavement, cutting into the flesh …beads of precious crimson blood the shade of roses, cherry against alabaster skin, seeps to the surface of insignificant wounds, wounds like the scratches left by the thorny stems of the lovely blossoms lain atop cold, hard stone, ruby petals glistening with tears and dew that catch the devastated fragments of memory and emotion, evergreen leaves guarding the velvet bloom, a soft, faint, fragrant scent so unique emanating from the flower, rising into the air cut through by glass and wreckage.  Time stands still, the world takes a breath and everything freezes …but then with a crash and the quiet, sharp intake of a harsh sob, the world inhales and time grinds into motion again, everything happening at once as the slivers dig into the collective ruins left in the wake of terror and pain and anguished remorse.

            Plumes of acerbic, thick smoke tinged with roaring flames and remembered screams of panic, heartfelt pleads of undying love, stern and calm orders underlined with unease as the shock is absorbed.  Hatred fuels a dangerous fire stacked high with a dreadful thirst for revenge and misunderstanding, an entire nation crippled as the ponderous weight of grief and power come to rest on the symbol of security now hashed.  A chilly autumn wind bends the gentle blades of grass protecting freshly dug graves, stone monuments standing solitary watch over the bodies of those now lost, souls gone in a blaze of agony and fright …the petals wither, curling in upon themselves and fall off, slowly, one by one, caught in the breeze that promises a bitter winter of unshed tears and hardened hearts. 

            Muffled noises as gargantuan as the violent upheavals of earth sound from within the heart of destruction, signifying the answered prays of a lucky few, still more trapped as the fires smolder on, embers proving a arduous death for the unfortunates too far buried.  The thorns are weathered by rain as the world weeps with the burdened, stark grey clouds unmoving in an overcast sky as the seasons roll on in a stately march and the candles flicker softly in darkened hallways, children clutching parents for comfort that seems a luxury in this hour of mourning.  Flags torn by participation in past disputes fly once more, at half-mast as the world puts on a unified front to stand with the country bleeding from countless little cuts, each somehow greater than the losses in ages past.  Minds clouded with fury and sorrow rage on in moments of silence, plans thrown hastily into action to respond.  The roses gone and dead, the smoke thinning in the crying air, the glass lands softly at ground zero …hearts buoyed by tragedy, the people continue on.