Riot, panic, black verses white, poor verses rich, wolves verses dogs.
Lines in the stores, violence in the streets, a rush to escape.
Through the streets, a stop, a store, a line, a window, a glance.
Two verses one, anger and fear, survival or death.
In line, a white man, a black man, a question, an answer, you're al'right.
On a bus, in a column, left to right, blackened buildings, a night of darkness.
Sharp right, passing a sea of migrating heads, hopelessness and gloominess.
Clear blue skies, bright sun, beige sand, deep blue waters, a sea of green grass.
A beautiful calmness, rays of summer fun, foamy waves of tranquility.
Path of grainy sand, black coastal road, a serene manicured landscape.
Descending from above, standing in the middle of a road, alone by a bay.
Piercing missiles, turbulent water, white smoke, flames of fire.
Ground shaking, explosive roars, deafening thunder.
Out of the bay, close to the shore, first one, second one, then a third.
Upwards and left, blocking the rays of the sun, unto a place unknown.
Kneeling for answers, praying for help, looking for a solution.
Are we at war? Why is this happening? Who is the enemy?
Staring straight ahead, gripped with fear, how can this be?
My prayers interrupted, thoughts arise, in the middle of a road.
What is behind me? Am I safe? Should I move?
Creeping along side ways, on my knees, better safe then sorry.
By Edward M. Bartlett Jr.