By Pavel Chichikov
As we went up a broad and brushy slope
The panoramic devastation spread
Around a lurid circle, limited
By flame and smoke, a true infernal zone
We all looked down as if by instinct then
Saw what seemed a shrine laid on the ground
A circle made of sticks around a flower –
A strange and unexpected thing to find
A little sky blue flower – ‘That's a squill'
Said Rob – the child was twelve, his sister six –
Flora took him by the hand and pulled –
‘Come on Robin, it's some kind of trick'
But he leaned over, was about to pick
The little bloom when she reached out to him –
‘Someone left a message, leave it be'
But Robin plucked the flower from the stem
All at once a massive cloud took form
And shut out every particle of light
Smoke as dark as midnight in a storm –
But then the darkness lifted up, somewhat
Now we saw a climber drawing near
The sympathetic, weathered man I'd seen
In one of those extended speechless queues
That stood at the disposal of the fiends
I saw that Robin held the flower out
Inside his palm, the little azure wheel
Spinning, as it seemed, inside his hand –
Illusion or reality – unreal
‘My mother's' said the fellow, and he touched
The remnant of the flower with his thumb
Held down against the child's extended hand –
The three of us confounded and struck dumb
Then he clenched his fist, the squill was gone –
Flora said ‘He put it back, but when?'
‘Or someone did' said Robin, stupefied –
We saw the bloom still growing on the stem
The Shoulder of the Sun Part Twelve will be featured tomorrow.
To visit Pavel Chichikov's website click *here*
