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Writer's pictureGabrielle Faust

The Week After

“THE WEEK AFTER”

By Gabrielle Faust

November 14, 2024

 

The Statue of Liberty Weeps

There was a tension in the air.

Thick and pungent.

The kind that sets your senses on edge,

Bristling your skin,

Causing you to, unconsciously,

Clench your teeth

Until your jaw hurts.

People averted their eyes

As they scuttled about,

Trying to pantomime the motions

Of waking existence.

As if nothing has happened.

The sky was blue.

The air cool.

No one moved as if unseen.

 

Men appeared

Either ashamed or emboldened.

A terrifying truth

They each wore on their sleeves,

And the tilt of their heads.

Back or bent,

Shoulders slumped,

Or squared

With an arrogance

Women recognized.

Body language.

A new currency

In fragile dissemination,

And psychological discrimination,

The evaluation of safe and unsafe,

In this new reality.

 

Women looked afraid,

As they dressed now without makeup,

Their mouths hard lines of grim disbelief.

Haunted shadows beneath their eyes

From sleepless grieving.

They donned baggy,

Nondescript clothing,

And ball caps,

As if they were trying to fade

Into the concrete backdrop

Of the bustling city,

Like whisps of steam disregarded.

 

Those in between Christian distinction,

Of standardized, white-washed preference,

Held their breath.

Behind closed doors,

They clung desperately to one another

Through shivering, terrified stifled breaths,

And raw unfiltered digital sentiments that

Echoed into the void of screams,

Hibernating in harrowing expectation

Of the poisoned tipped arrows

Too soon to encroach upon

Their sightlines.

 

Backwards walks the world in a blink,

Decades unraveling to

The death knell of

A fascist symphony of hate.

 

The only communication,

Reduced to blunt transactions

And rehearsed monotone societal niceties,

Strained and difficult,

As they were forced past vocal cords

Tight with trepidation.

It was a peculiar uncertain fear,

Bitter all-consuming dread

A souring of the soul

Like the sight of a dangerously dark yellow sky

Indicating a tornado,

Dark clouds and a low moan of wind

Crouching upon the horizon.

 

The air had been sucked out of the room,

Leaving people breathless

And standing in the truth

That friends and family

Had turned upon one another,

Within hours a new code

Had been devised,

Head down, eyes forward,

That stranger’s smile

Was no longer to be trusted

To be their true intent.

Especially those

Donning a blue bracelet.

 

The creaking ice

Beneath our feet,

That we had listened to

For the past decade,

Was finally giving way,

Soon to bury us,

All deep within

The icy watery grave,

Of this new America

We call home…

 

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