You were wrong about them, the silhouetted families, couples and children on the water tower.
It doesn’t matter that you aren’t here, may no longer even be alive; I can hear you as well as if you were at my shoulder. They didn’t change, they were destroyed by the blast. But any change is annihilation of a sort; whether it anneals or erases can only be seen/understood much later. Even now the (City Council) is making arrangements for the remaining pieces: this dancing child will be placed along I-75 at our border and that bisected man will front the new library doors. They will be altered, made into monuments and playground features, and the new water tower will doubtless boast some empowering slogan.
Maybe-ghost whispers at my back: This isn’t the change I meant. You reveal your youth, my heart – just a bit older, and you’d realize that it never is.
