On a wing, slanted,
huts wait for solace,
stuck with staves
no chance of change.
And just a few hundred yards
shouts and screams
bursts of something it knows nothing of
sing promises which rattle and claw.
Roofs creak and break and snap
and slowly, through wills of strength
they lift to see what they're missing.
And in between, the part they don't notice,
is life.
2/11/23