Destruction, a pale glass
shards spread far apart, hiding
within every available crevice,
the moment, a shattering
a sound echoing through
space and time and in that moment
all listen to the destruction.
-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

Slid into heaven
Thanks to raven wings and bones
It is a dark room
Scattering of beads, thunder
I wake in the morn
poem written in Tanka form
Destruction, a pale glass
shards spread far apart, hiding
within every available crevice,
the moment, a shattering
a sound echoing through
space and time and in that moment
all listen to the destruction.
-Alina