Direction

Before me, a hovering hummingbird —
my colors are reflected in its eyes,
it makes a quick decision.
 
Behind, the startled night creatures
run in circles, snapping at the air
with enormous teeth.
 
To the left, dark ships are crossing
in moonlight, no signals are exchanged.
 
On the right, great silent armies mass
along the border established during the panic,
waiting now for the command.
 
Below, families weep for their loved ones,
all wrapped in white cotton and neatly placed
in straight rows before them, like a deathly garden.
 
Above, the celestials pause at the wall
and, gazing down at the fallen, sigh
softly, then turn away.
 
Out of nowhere comes a shiver,
then all is still again.

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