The Shattered Door  
by Michael L. Charters

The shattered door before her hand,
The stone below, worn cold and deep
By men who passed from war to war
But sought a moment's rest, so stopped
Here, at the shamble-broken house,
Here in burned and blackened fields.

She saw them standing loose and slim -
Men who laughed at ruin's birth,
Whose hands their cradled weapons bore.
Their strength they said was to destroy,
So kill they did until the world
Was dead, and there was only one
In all the nations left, a girl
Who now returned from where she was,
Back to the home she left before,
And found it blisterblack and sad.

Her hair, so angry in the wind,
Closed eyes that filled with pain -
For so much hope was gone at last,
The promise never kept, and rains fell cold
On mankind's litter-empty streets.

She left the house and crossed the fields,
Feet flat on crunching ground with grass
All withered dying, her head held back,
For proud she was, and bitter too.

© 2010 M. Charters, Sierra Madre, CA.