By Natasha Ley | BA English, Stage 3
It feels like the end
When the explosions start and the gunfire rattles through the concert hall
Black and red, rubble and shrapnel
When those that run get shot down, you hide
Beneath the bodies of those who didn’t make it
Beneath the weight of 128 feared dead.
Their faces will be in the papers
And on the news.
Their blood will be on your shirt
And in your hair
You feel the gunman; a monster under the bed
Come out to play
Nothing can save you now
It’s creeping closer and closer behind you
You feel breath on your neck and play dead
Don’t breathe don’t breathe stay quiet.
But remember this:
It’s never the end
When the sun rises and the city wakes
When people invite strangers into their homes
Just to keep them off the streets
When the streets are paved with candles
You feel the warmth of arms around you
You feel your own heart beating
You feel the city’s heart beating
The world’s heart beating
See that open door
See your people rise from the ashes
Take their hands into yours, let them know you won’t be broken.
Breathe. Breathe. Make some noise.