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Bright Lights

by Zeenit Jacobs

A boy with a pointed finger exults:
“Look at the stars falling fast!”  

Collective awe as fifty become one
hundred; bright lights from East and
West illuminate the night sky. 

O’er tribal lands and clans; around
a campfire are sounds of clicks and
laughter as father and son look to
the heavens and make a wish. 

Turning fast; missiles with tails and
trails of white smoke – from Torre to
Little Brogel, but deaf are they to the
wailing of the night… 

Craters in the soil shape into mouths
with fiery breaths from Men who scorch
the Earth. But they hang their heads now
and go to sleep; from Brüchel to Volkel,
with palms-pressed, they sleep. 

Rest ye easy, oh simple ones, under
seven glorious firmaments and her
many lamps as the sky falls East
and West.