SALVAGING REMAINS

Her hands are frail, but there is still light in her eyes, somewhere, some part of her, is not dead, not willing to die or give up, her frail hands rummage through dust, disaster and trash, the fucking remains of what we have left behind, some good, some old, some brand new, some part of us that we have decided to part with, her frail hands pick and sort and she takes what she needs and the rest is left for the destroyers to scrape and disintegrate, she has found what she needs, the light in her eyes grow brighter, frail feet lead her away from the desolation of hell’s junkyard.

© elancharan

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