say goodbye to everything you used to know
you buzz like a bad hit song on the radio
humming this is ours through static
like this was owed to us
as if tragedy can be measured
by the number of houses that fall
or the bodies that wash up on the shore
somewhere, somewhere someone recognizes the sounds
trees cracking like nature is attacking with all the force it possesses
counting its own as collateral
and grimacing, while people keep counting
the merit of one person
by the number of hands that wave goodbye
or the number of eyes that cry.