demiurgent

I remember when we were doomed,
listening for the booms in the night,
the flash that meant everything ended
and the world would burn, then freeze,
then nothing at all -- pockets of humanity
huddled around trashcan fires eating
food from cans and waiting for your skin
to slough off while the fire burnt your brain.

I remember when we were doomed,
our fate loomed over our teenaged lives
where we survived by luck and belief
that no one could possibly be so naive
to believe we could win that war.
We swore and drank and fucked in the night
avoiding the fright we pretended not to feel.
We drank in warm summer breezes
waiting for nuclear freezes
not stupid enough to feel anything like hope.
You coped day by day and called it life.
The strife and grief on the streets
in the evenings after drinking too much.
We had fun. We had to. For tomorrow
we'd be dead. Or if not tomorrow,
then the day after.

Today I'm middle aged, surrounded by kids
born after the end of the world ended,
we pretend that things like that could never be,
and talk about how terrorists could strike
and blight our way of life,
never admitting that at least we would live.
We gave that gift to our children--
who are not doomed, and we hope
they never will be.
But we see
willful ignorance
in the stance
of small men
and women
who were once doomed
and don't know any other way
to live.