We are sitting in the basement
fifteen of us and a few cats and dogs
the battery powered light 
flickering endlessly 
giving this dark windowless 
space an unsettling strobe
     effect 
we are powerless to 
     correct 

anything

there’s constant noise down here
the wet wood in the furnace 
gathered in life risking scrambled forays 
sizzles spits and pops 
like everything above ground

the thermal fan under it turns on 
ever grinding stripped cogs 
whir, grrr, whir, grrr

such a refuge
such refugees

the six month old baby grizzles 
persistently as her mother rocks in place 
mother elicits an endless suppressed 
yet ever audible keening cry 
over the child
eeee, oh, eeee, ooh, ooooh

our elderly neighbour in the corner 
incessantly mutters unintelligibly and fossicks 
in his rucksack for something 
he never seems to find
rustle, bustle, rustle

the small boys of the street wrestle 
spar for an activity to do until 
someone inevitably gets hurt 
accusations fly accompanied by 
pleading cries and whimpers for concern
but there is little room for that
sook sook sook

oh the irony of such violence 
here and now in play
and then the recriminations begin 
all over again 
or it's back to the board games 
already fought over and
played dozens of times

or back to exhausted, restless sleep

the horror that has thrown us together 
it has lasted five days now
with no end in sight
I mean how would we know 
we have no radio
if there was
if there is 
any end in sight?

add the horror of literally dashing
and splashing 
to relieve yourself topside 
before something or someone 
gets you in one way or another

the horror of what you see while 
you are out there 
exposed and defenceless 
amongst the snipers
the stray ordinance
the wreckage
the carnage, the bodies and body parts
the smoke and the smell 
you can't get rid of any of it
the imagery burnt into your retinas
the stench of burnt everything 
embedded in your nostrils
the burns on your skin 
your very own smouldering soul

two young girls push toy cars and trucks 
around the room 
filling them with anything they can 
that will support a story 
of some sort to overcome their fear
you never know how it will manifest next as they
fret, fidget, fuss, fume or fuse

we all stare at the floor most of the time 
except for the brief apprehensive looks
heavenward, to the ceiling 
with every new global shudder of 
our tiny enclosed world
we know where we are yet we are lost
we are buried
I wonder will we be buried here?
in our own reality show
live tombing
what will that be like?

CRUMP!

is it that noise that bothers most? 
or is it the ripping and tearing of metal and wood 
like live cardboard screaming 
until it also is finally dead and still 
all movement defeated 
all creaks silenced 
all purpose gone with the wind

the exploding windows 
the thumps and whumps of trees and structures 
unknown 
falling to the earth
the wild crackling and detonation
arcing earthing power lines writhing 
like electrocuted psychotic snakes
the searing howling jet stream that  is
simply the roar of wind
generated by wildfire and wild fire
the small arms fire rippling 
like saucepan popping corn
the convulsive impacts of 
guided bombs
drones
missiles
random artillery
or
the moments of deathly silence when it all stops
when the next set of questions begin
do we venture out with hope?
or do we continue to wait 
to still sit still in 
this basement of dread

our will to endure fading
fading deeper into despair

our fading resilience
a fading of body and mind

we can see in our minds eye 
the fading of our ink 
from every record 
of us there ever was
as we fade from presence 
and the present and from 
remaining data banks 
we fade from existence 
as surely as every other 
ordinary person is knowingly 
or carelessly erased by war