Covered in dust
Digging with bare hands
They search for the living the dying the dead
Each day, watching the sky, for the woosh and what comes after
A country where tears have long since dried up
thousands of dead
and they watch the sky
follow the trail of pain with only hope
Searching
for the last bit of life buried under dust that used to be walls
walls that used to hold families, paintings, signs of joy
but now hold fear and inevitable numbness
Shock has long since passed, perhaps after the fifteenth shockwave felt
We watch the sky and do nothing
They watch the sky
and hope.