Reality check

Phoenix didn’t rise from the ashes

Nor was Electra born from sorrow

What rose was acrid smoke and orange tongues of fire

that lit the night and engulfed hopes and dreams and future.

All that was left was a ragged black shell of what was once

a tower beaming with laughter,

bursting at the seams with life.

Lives of children, mothers, fathers, old and young

who lived each day as it came.

Those who escaped the flames of wars and persecution

and came to find shelter and peace

what have they all become?

Charcoal and DNA,genetic print of identity

memories of those who survived,

political ammunition to squabbling parties

Soon, the black skeleton that reaches the grey sky

The blot on the City’s landscape will be arrased for ever

Will Phoenix rise from the ashes?

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