The baby kept crying, through the night while the neighbours tossed and turned uncomfortably in their beds.
The mothers muffled their ears with their hands,
The fathers poured heavy rounds of whiskey and tried to drown out their demons.
And the baby kept crying. Wailing, snot tears and choking gurgling pants of grief.
The clear unbroken translation of pain that only a child can express.
In hurt or fear, a signal for its mother, its protector.
A defense from almost all things humane, in how pathetic and helpless the sound.
And the whole neighbourhood fought their humanity, while the baby kept crying.
By the time dawn crept out of from the ground,
To illumine a city littered with tiny graves,
Every soul was dead.
The baby, on a cradle in an empty street, sleeping peacefully.
While the parents of a graveyard worth of life went about their days
With hollow hearts and haunted minds.