The names that we give to terrible things

By Sol Dente, TIWP Student

In the east, the people know them by name

By the footprints they make in the rain, by the torrent

And screaming they take and they bring as they

Make a wake in the way of the floods

These giants that walk with the names of

Our friends, of the people we meet around

Bushes and bends, of the strangers we greet in the streets

filled to the brim with regrets of repeats

In the house, the tears on the cross pray

To a god who lives only miles away, but

Cannot yet seem to dismay

Over the lives of the people they take

In the west, the people know them by smell,

That faint tinge of burning, of screaming, of hell,

It follows us back from the toll of the bell

As they roams in the fields and the homes

We never quite seem to know them by name, like

That worn out, old phantom of rain that we chase

And embrace when it comes to erase

The things that we lost to the flames

These monsters that rage at our towns and our homes,

The cracking of shelves, the breaking of bones,

With the fire and storms and destruction they bring

Oh the names that we give to terrible things.

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