Not all are crying out. Not far distant
from the shore is a silent woman,
a bobbing lily floating serenely.
Bubbles escape from beneath
her skirt spread like the flower’s
pad across the water. Her hair
and clothes are disheveled.
Dignity too is a casualty.
She stares up looking surprised,
like the baby who has just fallen downstairs
before the hurt sets in.
She has the same stunned look
as the man with the bloodied legs.
The pain will come later
for all who are here.
The pain will come later for all.