First breath...

sharp and painful

like a dagger lodged
at the throat
and scraping
along the skin
the whole way

as the smoke
poured in

Somehow...

through his teary eyes
he saw the child
lying on its back
in the crib

It was a moment bent
and wild
at the center of Hell
In a little hell of a home

Beyond smoldering now
It was engulfed
in screams
and blazes

He reached
for the most
vulnerable one
he could find
of all the faces

Her body was so still
as he wrapped it
against his chest

A thing itself
fighting for air
and not doing the best

All the little hairs
on his arms
felt like kindling
aware of the enemy
all around

They danced
endlessly

He dodged through
the maze of death
until the black smoke
was too heavy

His legs
seemed useless
with a stomach
so empty

Dropping down easily
he went to his knees
and prayed
as he crawled

below the dark clouds
gathering lower
against the walls

Timber above
Falling,
Breaking
all around

with embers
like shrapnel
aiming for them
on the ground

And yet
some blind
determination
driving him

seemed to have
something to say

'The air is cooler
if you turn yourself
that way'

It was true
though he was
effectively blind
he could still sense it

The light of day
The draft outside
and a foreboding
anxious tension

Emerging into
the crowd chaotic
he brought the babe
to the cold gray earth

and setting his lips
to the voiceless one
he breathed in time
for a new birth

A cry
would pierce
the hopeless
scene

and bring
the attention
he did
not seek