Records in Wartime

Sounding the skies.

explosion of fireworks and car park full of cars at night

The ringing went on. It dropped from the sky, filled our boots. When it stopped, the hillside hissed. We bleated against it to distract ourselves back to our shackles, our shovels back to work. What were we digging? But forgetting was the point, don’t mention it, intentions slipped in easy drifts we ripped new jokes from last year’s clothes, we could see no cause to wear their kind again. Night came and the ringing returned to us until.

We took off our boots and left them to catch what we could no longer hear. No, we whispered. This is not the war. We watched the skies. It was not time.

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

2 thoughts on “Records in Wartime”

  1. The way this pieces own ending, as well as their own end, is deferred is magnificent and haunting. I am still trodding with them, and feel both as sure and unsure as they.

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