Embers
Jess Sandhar
Floating down from the sky.
Lighting up the surrounding darkness.
Fluttering, swirling, gliding
Down.
Flickering on and off like a switch.
Burning a vibrant orange,
And then immediately turning into a dusty grey.
Falling.
Soon they no longer flicker.
They only descend.
Dark and silent.
Fallen.
They lie on the ground.
Not seen anymore.
But still hated.
The spectacular hue of orange a distant memory.
We remember the scars they left.
The hate we spare for them.
Never forgotten.
Never lost.
But they are always falling.
Ever silent.
Ever despised.
Ever embers.