Rebuild

From the ground, uneven as it was, the foundations were laid.

Then brick, then brick, then brick, and mortar. Some reclaimed,

some new, uniformly brought together; a structure.

It was steadily taller, steadily wider, steadily stronger. Then steadily came more walls.

The windows were large, clean; light flooded in – at first, at least.

Still, on the top floor, where the sun is brighter and the heat is held in,

the cracks in the walls are less clear, the flaking outer skin less apparent.

No-one noticed. Not on the top floor.

The bodies underneath though, they know. They reach up, call out.

Escaping while the doors are open,

and while the change in air pressure seems to push the people out,

this is the imperative. The signs tell them to run.

When the building begins to fall, it is those outside, those who ran,

who will see the sun.

And everyone from above will be buried underneath.

And then they must rebuild.