Grave of the Fireflies

The nocturnal blink lit up the dark refuge,

Igniting a spurt of laughter from a toddler.

Catering on rocks, bathing in rivers,

The children basked in their freedom beneath the sun.

An aura of light shimmered over the tranquil lake.

Their faces glowed with pleasure.

With the earth as their bed,

The brother scattered fireflies around,

Gallantly tucking the baby girl in at night.

On the brink of firestorm,

They dwelled in desolation,

Untouched, sheltered, yet isolated.

Destitution and starvation afflicted the youthful souls,

And ultimately devoured their flesh.

‘Why cannot fireflies live longer?’

Her brother’s arms wrapped about her diminutive,

Lifeless shoulders.

This time, he tucked her into the fire.

The flames roared.

The rain wailed for her departure.

His tears glinted beside the flare.

He pocketed the candy tin

Where her cremains rested in peace.

Together, their spirits gazed at the skyline —

A city reborn from the ashes.