Remnant

Skin tearing, violence. Blood, screams. Agony.
Ribs, disfigured limbs, mouths instead of feet, hips bent out of shape, pulsating.
Animal sounds, saliva, mucus, bile, shit, piss and tears, angles, sharp, cutting, bone shards ripping into itself.

Somewhere in the mass of muscle, viscera, guts and slime slithers and crawls a hopeless mess, something without form, without edge, oozing and disintegrating, searching for a suggestion of what it could be, what it is meant for, what terrible existence it might eventually morph into that could be any worse than it is already.
It is a vehicle of grief, and war is the only thing that will satisfy it now. Explosion. The shattering of earth, building, life, air, sky. Fire. It is a thing of hate, of cruelty, possessed forever to harm, to maim, destroy, to hurt and reduce. A malevolent being bent, torn, and twisted into a configuration of never-ending destruction.

Once it made art. It taught. Once it was colourful. Once it was wise. Smart in being, smart in appearance. It had family. Space. Once it gave of itself to grow all around it. It found purpose in the betterment of others just like it, and others who needed purpose. Clean edges. Straight yet soft. Once it had cares, loves, hopes. Once it made a home. Once it hoped to be loved. Once it was. Once it loved in return and once it held the world in its palms. Soft. Gentle. Warm. New. Alive. The breathing and the sighing. New hopes. New worries yet new learnings, new directions, new beliefs. Glowing, shining, illuminating. Aware of beauty, able to move and be moved and plunged headlong body and soul into a universe of all that was good and all-encompassing assurance. A different place. A different life. A different existence.

All taken now. All gone. Thrown away without care or even the knowledge of it ever having been. All the time. All the love. All the kindness. The back and the forth, the running and the walking, the sitting and the holding and the closeness of it all. The universe. The love. The everything. Gone.

Nothing left now but the mess. Ruins. Cut to ribbons, to shreds and to pieces and burned away in unbearable violence on the whims of others never met, to whom there was no connection whatsoever but the same country of birth. Nothing more. All that was good, all that mattered, all that was loved, all that held meaning. Gone forever and ruined and impossible to ever replace. Wiped from the earth without a care and without ceremony.

So now this. This and only this.

No way out.

Image: Wikimedia Commons