Children and Their Mothers Will Walk Slowly

This city has practiced the evacuations
for decades waiting for the explosion
to cut with a polluted blade
into a sky that branches
toward heaven
every day.

Fear roamed free as a vagabond
hopping off the midnight trains.

But morning has come creeping in after the darkness
and the shop keepers sweep the walkways with determined vigor.

Now it is gratitude that fills the air
with silence that peals as loudly as a heron's joyful wings
as she lifts herself and all the hopes of the quorum
and the milquetoast minds
in a sigh of relief.

Children and their mothers will walk slowly
toward the edge of the river
and lift bright eyes to watch all the birds fly
to a peaceful night's rest.