Alla Turovskaya
Our Smiles Do Not Shake
The air is buttered with sound
muffled, distant pat on the air–CLAP!
And then, it is closer–and SMACK!
But my walls are tough, I’m under protection and I
Am
not scared.
And then, comes the feeling.
It crawls under
my skin.
I look at the man next to me.
His shoulders suddenly jerk.
He is very still
but his skin
lives the life
of its own.
Jerk, a wave of goosebumps, twitch.
The air twitches.
And then
a big fist of missiles
kneads it right over our heads–
BOOM–
and sends trembling waves
that go through the air
through the roof
down, down the stairs,
down, to the ground
to the tough walls of our shelter.
The waves
land in my heart–it is trembling
but I breathe.
I look at the man beside me.
His lips are firm, his heart
goes out of rhythm.
The walls’ pulse is ragged.
The Earth vibrates.
The air chokes a little.
And suddenly
the man holds my shoulders.
I feel his pulse.
He holds me with his right hand,
a baby sleeps on his left
breathing evenly.
It is our son.
We’re alive.
And our smiles
do not shake.