
Photo: Jessica Xiong
i always loved fireworks
a comforting backdrop to a picturesque peace
noisy neighbours and nosy relatives
incessant chatter and hissing sausages on american grills
all seated on a weathered picnic table
moss forming between the cracks of the backsplash tiles
a view I would enjoy every summer
i always loved fireworks
deafening symphonies of ultramarine blue
bold streaks of tuscan sun
bewildering shades of vermillion
vibrance erupting across the stygian night, giving meaning to the nothingness
illuminating the fetid smog bellowing out of potbelly stoves
a view I would not enjoy ever again
faded burnt sienna ink against rough parchment
conscription papers shattering my holy stained glass
anguished shrieks of wronged mothers, silent weepings of guilty brothers
paralyzed fathers laying comatose in a mosaic of broken beer bottles
pitiful stares from bystanders, shifting accountability like cards of poker
a melancholy farewell
my father exchanging desperate murmurs with cloaked men
unnoticed, I perch on rigid clay stairs
curiosity overtaking
much of the conversation lost through mud walls
sol rises, hesitantly I awaken
our household soaked in disquietude and trepidation
i run across the schoolyard with unchanging vigor, blessed with ignorance
sweat mixed with mud and rain
incessant chatter replaced with incessant yelling
a foreboding grim clouding and hardening our hearts
stew in bags arrives, hungry soldiers crowd, their raw fingers reach for their meals
letters sent, never received
gunshots echo in the damp air, ringing off the trench walls
like fireworks
i was awoken not by the sun, but the familiar sound of fireworks
gleefully I hurry outside, unnoticed as always
i am met with soot and an ashen sky
my neighbourhood reduced to debris
soldiers have gained ground, we advance toward enemy territory
i’m scared
we have arrived on the rebel base
i’m scared
the fog has hazed our vision
we have made contact with the first rebel
alien men in green greet me
a metal ball slowly approaches
the explosion goes unheard
the sounds of firing guns and exploding bombs drowned out rationality
and no one would ever mourn
ultramarine blue skies painted over with silvery bomb residue
no one would ever mourn
rays of tuscan sun obscured by raining shrapnel
no one would ever mourn
beautiful shades of vermillion darkened into a sickening sanguine
no one would ever mourn
the evaporated stygian night, now littered with souls
like asphodels blooming in the underworld
no one would morn one blossom amongst a field of millions
we returned
some lost legs
some lost arms
and some lost a piece of themselves that could not be mended by stitches and plastic
no amount of medals and politician speeches and embellishments
could bring back
the way I used to love fireworks
i always loved fireworks