Berkeley (The Californian Tragedy)

A crack, a groan, a rending sound
and six angels fell, heaven-bound.
We gasped, we cried, we shared, bereft
of any reasoning still left.
What God, we asked, could advocate,
this devil's work, this faithless fate?
Was it, to this cruel deity,
that we should pledge fidelity?

Ah but I rant and rants are crass,
when so much future's in the past.
I can find nought, for nought it seems,
can recompense for shattered dreams.
I watch the young and feel their pain
but know, they'll learn to live again,
for they have time - at least we hope -
and years before they have to cope,
with that soul-searing poison dart,
that strikes, when offspring deign to part.

We live, we love, we breed, we die
and with - if lucky - little 'why?'
Life is life and should equate:
from cradle to a greying pate.
All else is quite anomalous -
at least considered so by us.
And so, when faced with tragedy,
the barbs of stark reality
bite deep and pierce communal heart;
'That finish line should be the start!?'
They were too young, to just be....dead;
the world is standing on its head!
There is no parent, fit to be,
who would not swap mortality
for those they brought into the world,
for when that banner, once unfurled,
is raised, it cannot be brought down,
until the raiser goes to ground.
My thoughts today are guided thus,
to those, who with such gentle fuss,
look to the flags, that fly and still,
for their eyes only, always will.

C.B. 2015