in this first spring dusk a cicada

begins its static buzzing the

stop/go of disbelief as it weaves

the cocoon of aloneness one feels

when learning bad news and

there is no one to reach out to

you were twelve years old

when world war two began

in europe your flashbacks

vivid still of the neighbour's

child you played with and

saw ripped apart left to lie

for days in the street no one

able to run the crossfire and

retrieve her body

the slowing of first heat ticks within

the ceiling like footsteps of the unknown

above my head alerting me to the

treachery of such days

it is hard to say goodbye to a renewed

innocence each time it bursts

the surprise offering one more

brick for the wall i'm building

behind my eyes

out of my childhood comes

the sound of my mother's chiming

clock always a little slow it

allows me that 'minute of silence'

needed to comprehend the

enormity

its musical chime fading away leaves

my childhood safely behind me in

the past

the future now changed forever

Published in The Haiku Wall (Australia).