The end of the world

All my life I’ve dreamed of the apocalypse.
When I was a child I barred the doors
and windows against the invasions
that came when I slept.

Now that I’m grown
I still dream that it’s coming
I pack a bag and flee,
home is no longer a refuge.

When I’m awake I believe it will come
in slow small steps, unnoticed,
until it’s too late to get away.

Today I saw it
in the bodies of children
sleeping in the forest,
sprawled in town squares
on the other side of the world.

Then I turned and looked and knew
that it’s been here
all the time
behind me.


4 Responses to “The end of the world”

  1. 1 John Looker December 12, 2015 at 9:42 pm

    That is very moving Kalila, and you approach your subject in an original way: the conclusion is unexpected but when it comes seems ineluctable.
    You don’t post very often but you don’t need to do so: your poems are always rewarding to read. I look out for them.

  2. 2 Kalila December 13, 2015 at 8:37 am

    Thank you John, it’s always good to get feedback from you. I keep making resolutions to post more often ;),but they seem to go the way of most resolutions….

  3. 3 Thomas Davis April 19, 2016 at 2:07 pm

    This is a powerful poem. The last four lines make the poem. Like John says, it’s not entirely expected. It gives us the sense that this world is more dangerous than perhaps we believe from day to day.

    • 4 Kalila May 10, 2016 at 10:52 am

      Indeed, the familiar dangers that we accept as part of our lives. Where I live roads are closed because of riots every couple of months, but the suffering one sees on the media can seem more real.

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