Gas

then came the gas,

silent, deadly,

just a soft whump here,

a quiet thump there,

followed by swiftly rolling fog,

at first we weren’t even sure

what was happening,

many started dropping

before the thought

of donning a mask could

even be thought;

it seemed like such an ironic,

cruel twist of fate,

to have come so far,

only to be destroyed by

such a thing

as this;

everywhere men lay choking,

gasping for breath,

their faces twisted in deadly agony,

those who managed

to put on their masks,

powerless to help,

the burning of skin

hardly noticed by the joy

of protected lungs and

internal organs

from this slow and

evil death;

I thought of Tukarov,

I thought of my wife,

I thought of innocent little girls,

lying cold and limp in my

trembling arms,

I thought;

such a waste,

such an incredible,

stupid waste;

who has won?

who has lost?

all I could do

was cry.

.

.