Analysis of Dark Cloud

Only yesterday,
I lost my voice
to a gust of wind
that stifled
their innocent presence
leaving shreds
of broken humanity
to rubble.

From the four corners
we wept a bucketful
but our collective drop
proved a futile rite
in the throes of transition.

Only yesterday,
the sudden silence
of the rumbling thunder
muffled by the whistling wind
formed a cloud without rain.

The plants in the nursery
have withered and cannot be watered,
for the water in my well
has dried up…

Only yesterday,
a bloody yesterday,
the air of unripe harvest hit our nose,
and paroxysm
of sneezing seized us.

In the throes
of the raging inferno,
our collective echo proved a stifled yawn;
the flame on our horizon
licked clean the soles
of our saintly souls
leaving behind
a heap of broken humanity.

Like the tide,
the crimson river flows freely
to fertilize the famished earth
that now yields nothing but ghostly harvests.