Anarchy

The moment of silence for the dead shook with bombs. 

Heads were bowed in prayer and minds were distracted by memories.

No one noticed the sky.

Cloaked in the purple clouds, the crafts launched their damnation upon the crowds. The people ran towards the bodies, covering them as if their arms alone could resist the bombs. The recently dug graves turned into trenches and barricades. Mud spread between the broken tombstones as blood mixed with the upturned soil.

Nothing could prevent the massacre. No one would cherish the corpses.

The morning dew offered the only burial shroud.  

Emotion was stemmed.