Poems of Hope and Despair

Disaster Drill

After dreaming Arthur Miller’s Broken Glass

Without feelings
And without sounds

We practice
The motions of survival

As if disasters were without
Terror, danger and chaos

As if survival were clean
Without grief, pain and loss.

We follow instructions.
We duck and cover.

We march into the field in hushed columns.
We search and rescue.

At the far end of the field
We hear the sounds of panic and wailing,

The bodies on the ground glisten
With broken glass and fresh blood,

The air fills with fruit flies
Rising from the rubble,

The sky is dark and we
Can’t even comfort one another

Esther Kamkar, Palo Alto, California artist and poet. Poems, poetry, writing, published works - footer logo

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