It is not worse to imagine, he said

Except for the horror

I would rather the horror, he said

The shell of a burned-out car hovered like a rusty halo

Around his head

What is real is not fearful

Except to awake and find

It is not a dream

Should I fear waking, because

I have no story any more?

Because I come from no people

Anymore, and they do not remember;

The dead do not remember, why should they?

It is better not to.

These are not happy dead

But I, what I taste is not dust.

It is not victory

Anything that took them

Could have taken me, I

Am not better than my fathers

But what I taste is not dust

What I see is not nothing

We do not have to be happy people

We are the living

As long as we are living

It is real, what has happened.

What is with us, the

One who walks with us

It is not only nothing

That I will not forget