Playing with threadbare doll,
Hestia waits
along a dusty path of rubble and dim lights.
The child hums, sweetly,
her own rhythmic fantasy adhered;
absent from the night of gunfire and blood.
High above on waning clouds
the Goddess is weeping;
she reaches for the girl--
the hearth of home is extinguished.
And the threadbare doll
has pleasure as she dances
between little grey pebbles
and the hands of the child.
Playing with threadbare doll,
Hestia waits
The child will soon see her.
The barefoot child with dirty
dress and dirty face crouched
over the ballroom floor
listening to invisible song.
Child, let me lift your head
and have a look at you.
Look into my ancient eyes,
take comfort in my smile.
Child, let me aid you
to find those you love
and reunite you.
She lifts her head as instructed
lets her doll descend to the ground
Hestia has brought her back
to the night of gunfire and blood.
The sadness inside her roars
whilst her pale face swells red.
Two blue eyes glance to the left.
Picking up her threadbare doll,
blue eyes simmer tears
she runs with anguished cry.
Under crushed wooden beams
Under broken glass and cracked bricks
bloodied burnt bodies lie limp.
the hearth of home is extinguished.
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