The Specters of Pripyat

I am a traveler
Caught in the time between time
Panic stricken and careening
From one little folly to the next.
Where was I that crimson dusk
When the sky broke apart
And ash bereaved your line of sight?
I was still sleeping
Cradled in the dark grottos of the earth
Grasping cypress petals
Fingers numb from clawing at the dirt of new life.
Existence is a kaleidoscope
Refracting arcadian memories
Given life by oxygen and buried in death.
Seasons pass slowly here
Where the specters of Pripyat dance on brazen shores.
I had hoped to see your reflection
Passing through the splintered shards of winter
Or emblazoned on the dark waves at dawn
Painted in the radioactive fog.
I am a traveler
Lost in the distant past
Straining toward a light that doesn’t shine
In the battered down shackles
Of a town that time has forgotten.

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