Lot’s Wife

I have been turned into a pillar of salt.
The sky is coming down.
It’s raining ambers. All around
Are falling shards of our shattered world.

Our city, our city burns.
Our palisades succumb to hungry fires.
Bodies light up and fade, like fireflies.
The streets glow crimson, paved with molten stones.

Our garden and the house where we lived,
The little church where we had stood before the altar,
Beyond my grasp.
A statue carved of grief,
I am inanimate, I cannot alter
The judgment that’s been passed
On everything we’ve spent a lifetime building,
Too horrified to not turn back and cast
One final glance at our doomed city.

Defiant, disobedient, I forgot
The Angel’s warning.  ‎
I refuse to go.
So full of love, I’d rather turn to salt.
And there’s no species of God
That could command or force me to abandon
This city built with our sweat and soul.

Copyright 2015 @ Julie Deshtor

About Julie Deshtor

Julie Deshtor grew up in the Soviet Union during the turbulent 90's, and moved to the United States shortly after the Soviet Empire collapsed in 1991. A bilingual author, Julie writes both fiction and poetry, as well as translating poetry and lyrics. She brings her rich cultural and life experienced to her fiction, exploring the psychological struggles of her characters with compassion and insight, as they navigate the murky waters of the modern society. Julie currently resides in Utah, USA. Her interests include art, world literature, zoology, anthropology and urban subculture
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