When the Angels Fall

[lanfykins.livejournal.com]

It has been four days.

The first spasm of agonising grief is past, the electrifying shock that had brought Sian running in response to her cry, puzzled to find her in tears rather than pain. Yesterday she even went back to work, and was surprised to find herself running through the old routines as quickly and competently as ever.

She wanted to scream.

Today, she sits on the edge of the crater where St Paul’s once stood, and feels the oily wind trying to tease at her hair. She has finished with crying. She doesn’t think she will ever cry again.

The polluted breeze sweeps across the expanse of devastation, and she feels... Nothing. He is not here. God is not here. Only Man walks in this city now.

Take your father's cross
Gently from the wall
A shadow still remaining
See the churches fall
In mighty arcs of sound
And all that they're containing
Yet all the ragged souls
Of all the ragged men
Looking for their lost homes
Shuffle to the ruins
From the levelled plain
To search among the tombstones

When the angels fall
Shadows on the wall
In the thunder's call
Something haunts us all

When the angels fall...

Idly, she wonders what the point is to any of this anymore.