The air around me begins to buzz.

I tightly clasp onto someone’s hand.

 

Don’t worry-

 

I always presumed that events like this

do not happen in places like this.

Idyllic white picket fences

manicure my perfectly trimmed lawn.

A wafting aroma of baked sweet bliss

emanates from my porch daily.

I rest on embroidered plush pillows,

the scent triggering a nostalgic rush.

Trees bear fruits that have ripened since winter,

and winding roads drift into the sunset.  

Children play, seesaws creak, a swing swooshes

and the rustle of leaves accentuates

the euphoria of this autumn day.

I always presumed this dream

to be my reality that nothing could touch.

 

Don’t worry-

 

So foreign from the very comfort

I accept as the great suburbia,

I now sit in a closet of dust bunnies.

My index finger swirls the dust,

tears welling from the pit of my guts.

As these eyes brimming with fear widen,  

and tears gracefully cascade down,

a whimper of laughter escapes my lips.

 

Don’t worry-

 

I pretend I’m a school child in the 1950s,

dressed in plaid, my hair plaited,

held together by two flower clasps.

I imagine everything black and white

with a particular stale conformity.

Children grip each other tightly,

shimmying their way under the desks.

Ra tat tat rat at tat the rattling desks go.

 

Willingly letting go, we all crouch down

and lace our hands behind our necks.

John smirks sardonically at Mary.

You can discern from his weathered,

10 year old face that he knows very well.

Mary caresses her rumpled skirt,

sighs and contorts her face to smile.

You can tell that she, also, knows very well.

 

Boom da boom da da Boom Boom,

goes the sound of the Hydrogen bomb -

or so it goes they have all been told.

Against this destructive force

and awareness of  radioactive fallout,

students snicker, chime and hum to songs.

Their rickety desks don’t seem so strong anymore.

 Still, they smile, and they laugh,

 they duck and, they cover.

 

I close my eyes and exhale.

The buzz begins to settle.

 

Don’t worry - it’s just a drill.

Don’t worry.