Banshee sky

I am alone amidst the crowd.
Just look at all the faces, on their way here;
on their way back.They don't see me.
And I don't want them to.

The hollow eyes of a gothic cathedral
stare through my soul; judgmental.
It makes me angry.

Great spires of times past
forever pierce a marauding sky.
Filthy gray ribbons bleed into the gutters
along a parade of traffic on Third Avenue.

Warbirds slice through the cavalcade of noise,
reverberating into the concrete foundation
of an overcrowded city like
the primal beat of ceremonial drums.

I feel it in my chest,
the heartbeat of an earthquake
pounding away at what's left
of my bombshelled sanity.

The second wave rolls in;
I can see by the olive drab
that it's a military affair.

They disappear in a barrage
of thunder and mist beyond the stands
of brick and stone, a homecoming flight;
a return to the base outside the city.

From a black Chevy suv, my warwagon,
I watch them depart without me,
as I feel like a deserter;
traitor to whatever faith I had.

Never can a battle be won
with a war declaration
of self inflicted crime.

I am prisoner
of my own war.