Fire engines racing into smoke,
twisted metal concealing
invisible hands which reach out
from the powerless station.
Survivors pick through heaps
of matchwood houses,
human debris spreads out
in a chilled sports hall,
hand in hand
a tear stained nation waits.
Change channel.
Tracer lights up the desert sky again.
Something dark cruises
through the thickening air.
A white flash marks the spot
where the earth shakes and burns.
Come the dawn
roads are choked,
skeletal tanks, refugees
heading for the borders.
Change channel.
Consulting room,
x-ray on screen,
still, small voice explaining
the shadow of a man
who has been.
Change channel.
Static, all that remains
of that first blinding light.
One by one the stars wink out
preparing for an endless night.
