As I stare out at the wasteland, the old city has become from my perch atop the tallest structure still standing. I am unable to find any reasoning in man’s inhumanity towards man.
I am overwhelmed with sadness, I am incapable of fighting it off, the pain is just too much.
I stare down at the steam rising up from the uneven, leaning vent pipes arranged like lazy sentinels against the freezing cold; I wonder if I will ever be warm again.
I see the tiny forms below hustling, bustling, fighting to fend off the howling icy wind. I reel backward as if struck by a physical blow, the hammer of their loneliness.
I see my breath rising into the all too gray evening air, dissipating as have most of my dreams.
The lights suddenly come on all across the barren battle scene. Little twinklings of hope; lost in the unholy sea of darkness. I see small forms moving inside; imagine the warmth of not only the body but of the soul. And I long to have a home of my own.
As I flex the stiff, cold, gloved fingers of my hands, I long to love, as to be loved and have a family.
As I wipe the tears from my cheeks and the snot from my nose, I realize with certainty I will always be alone.
All of the love bursting out of my overfull heart. Will it die with me?
I walk over to the rusty fire escapes, grab a rusty rail in each hand, not sure to care if they will even hold my weight anymore. I take one last look around. And I begin the long slow descent into my own personal hell.
For Kate
My Two Cents 