Photographs of the End

Photographs of the end;
        the process;
and defeat.
The point of jumping
        off the ledge,
the want to not
see things when they are complete.

The girl, not young,
yet no one would
        be so bold
as to call her
a woman yet
has taken the initiative.

She is what could have become
of all of us if we had
to face what we had seen.

For her it was a matter,
rather simple, not based
        on principle,
or conceits.

Taking what was left
in her frail arms
she exiled herself
        to the mountains
conscious of what was not to be.

Taking a seat upon
        the ledge,
looking down
there was no reason
to push for victory
        in the cesspool.
John Greiner
In contemplation
quietly drifting
        out in to the night
after the sun
had shattered
        her heart
took fragments
        from her purse
and swallowed.

Her throat
        burst out in red songs
knowing that morning
is forever late
        in its arrival.

The shuttering lens
that captured all
        that there was
to see, but which no one
        wanted to look
at it now sat
the glass cracked.

Photographs of the end
        upon the wall
in the museum
by members of the race
who once sought
under their dirty caps,
catch the eye
of those who
        no longer
wish to see,
but hear the calm
        of sleep,
and the silent
        fall that is near.

Let the commentators
say what they will,
but she was the one
who beat us to the punch
while we slept
        without serenity
between damp sheets.