Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Fire in our fingertips.

The red and the white of the ambulance lights dancing.
The blood is spilled and yet still gushing.
We stand flirting with death, smiles on our faces and fire in our fingertips.
We are waiting.
Waiting for what the red cross says.
Wondering if he is hospital bound.
Wondering if he can see or think or breathe.
And still we are all sitting on the very animals that can so easily inflict death, watching the ambulance lights dance with prayers on our lips and fire in our fingertips.