Storms

When we were kids
we watched in awe,
but not in fear,
the blinding flashes
that traversed the sky,
anticipating
with bated breath
the distant rumbles
and slowly counting
until the storm reached
its thunderous climax.
Then we relaxed
in the peaceful aftermath;
all dangers over.
We were to witness
a different scenario
in later years.
This time the lightning,
that tore the sky apart,
was not
the natural phenomenon
of old, but conflagration
of shells pirouetting
out of mortar cannons;
and the ominous rumbles
were those
of armoured cars advancing
in no-man's land.
We stood and watched,
heart in our mouth,
the deadly pyrotechnics.
But now
there was no fascination;
only terror.

© Luigi Pagano