Roof Beneath the Sky

A train chugs by
and I remember of passage
in a documentary,
a slum-dweller rushes
avoiding raindrops,
the nature is benevolent.

But the blanket has expanded,
cold has descended
now the slums are burned down.

If the truth is out,
when little bones without a shriek
accept a humble help
and wait unseen in the fog
for another dwelling.

No pain is felt,
they gather unlike
around uneven fire,
still burning there.