Ashes in the Streets

Footsteps light upon broken ground,

Cracked and bleeding from glass of broken dreams,

Eyes shedding tears no one can see;

Only you,

Only me.


Wind blows gray ashes down this twisted street

Ashes of the fallen, the gentle, the weak.

Burned by self pity, hatred, despair

Their ashes are all that is left of who they could be

Blowing around footsteps

Of those who remember


Better days when the sun shone bright,

The skies were blue where the cardinals sang.

There was no darkness within hearts so pure,

No tears or painful scars

Visible to all, or hidden within.


Misery abounds now in this once happy place,

Red, glaring graffiti on boarded up stores

No one cares enough to fix up and renew.

Streets littered with potholes and cracks all around

Where footsteps tread lightly, making hardly a sound

As blood spills from the cuts and cracks in the souls.


The wind whispers as it sighs, as it blows:


Remember the fallen,

those who are gone.

Don't forget who you are

Or you will become

Like those whom you see;

Ashes in the streets.