Cruel Dawn

This is the cruel dawn…
the dawn of wailing sirens, crow calls, locked doors.
Your door is locked,
a silent assault.
I tiptoe past,
careful not to break any eggshells.
There are so many now;
mama always said I was clumsy;
now everywhere I step I hear it,
I hear the cracking, breaking, crunching
of hollow shells.

The cruel dawn breaks too.
Damaged.
And I was just learning to crumble.

©2012

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