Falling Rocket - Stephen O'Brien (ekphrastic II)

The blast is silent from this distance, a
Cacauphonous rocket of gunpowder
And phosphorus leaves trailing fireflies
Dancing their chemical lights in scribbles
That burn down to nothing before they fall.

In the trails of smoke and fire above
A tower is outlined in gold and red,
But fades to the deep blue of summer nights.

The great lake ahead invites me to swim
And splash around as spinning rockets fly.
Looking up through the water watching fire
Dance throughout the sky, both terrifies and
Comforts, as none of that destruction could
Reach me while under the darkened water.

While I watched these pyrotechnic displays
The falling rockets and bursting mortars
I remembered the attempts to defer
The modern major-general down to
Private, honest people who had never
Seen the glimmering sight of destructive
Magic. Saltpeter and sulphur pressed down
Flew higher and faster than ballistic
Missiles failing as they lifted themselves
In fiery conflagurations. Waiting
For the spectacle we loved to watch.

A constant interest in destruction
Seems a common, binding interest. The
Creation of this shared experience
Would endure, after the dawn had broken
And after many years, stark constrasting
To the floating stars of fire we had seen.