Sometimes you just run out words,
Out steam, out of tears.
Sometimes you become a dried river,
And your heart a cracked piece of land
Where no seed can grow.
Sometimes the world is just too much.
And although you are faraway,
You can hear the screams, the crackling
Of the flames, slithering up the building
Like a winding snake, a fire snake,
Searching for it wings and take flight,
Caring not for a little child, an old man,
A family of five. The fire snake wants
To become a dragon and fly.
Was it the gas? Was it the cladding?
Was it the alarms? Was it the policies?
What turned a gigantic block of flats
Into a torch, lighting up the night,
Breaking it with shattered windows and shrieks,
With the sum of all fears,
Falling down with the debris?
And amid the emptiness and broken heartedness,
The anger and the pain, they see us, in shades of grey,
Plastered faces on a wall, scrawled names and post-it prayers
Asking for a glimmer of impossible hope.
And sometimes the world is just too much.