LAUGHTER OF THE DEAD
By Cecilia Wynn
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Sometimes all our lives are spent dreading
One single moment, insignificant in the picture,
But all those years spent lightly treading
Pressurized build up to the Richter.
Til Fates fair work unwove and threading
Threw up flames as if from a lighter.
Crashing, burning, unweaving, all creating
Ash as flames were doused by a fire fighter.
As the ground shook and the earth, cleaving
Swallowed the speechless innocent, heaving
Upwards to the surface, onlookers believing
That the end had come. In truth, just grieving
Their unfulfilled tasks. Until they realized
They were no longer fettered in pressurized
Zones with malnourished bodies and overcast skies.
They ran free, seeing after years of glazed-over eyes.
The laughter rolled and billowed as they grew wise
Enraptured as they learn their fear with them dies.
The laughter of good and evil known only after demise. ❧