The Blue Can Of Paint

Wet Paint
I looked around me
They all looked dead
Yet I knew we were safe
–     For the moment

All was silent
Save the droning
In the far distance
–     Will it fall again here?

I got on my knees
Dusted myself
Shook his  arm
–     “Come on Hassan”

He turned, looked
And did likewise
The rest got up too.
–     Back to chores

We went outside
Hassan and I,
Hamida and Raysa
–     Wahid and Abid.

This time it missed
The families
It fell on a pile of junk
–     We’d collected

The entangled mass
Of metal and mortar
We pushed and shoved
–     To clear space

I looked again at the wall
It looked dirty
I had found a can of paint
–     Blue paint

Nothing else to do
“Hassan bring the can,
Wahid help me make two brushes”
–     We go inside to forage.

“Its coming”… Hamida screaming and running
Back in flat on the face
Seconds pass.. like hours – nothing
–     I walk out

Deafened by the sound and the impact
Am flung – I wait – then move
My face caked with dust
–     Blindly move towards my house

There’s nothing around me
Save a can of paint – splattered
And an arm – blue
My world – no world – I collapse in a heap.



19 thoughts on “The Blue Can Of Paint

  1. Got goosebumps reading it… I know this reflects the harsh reality of life in areas of conflict, where for people who are untouched by this reality it is just collateral damage, but amidst the rubble always lies someone’s family, a living breathing human being just some time ago, but now just a crushed mass of skin and bone….

    Liked by 1 person

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