Today, I went with the Poetic Asides prompt to write a "suffering poem". I read this article and it pretty much came quickly. Several lines are quotes.
A rammed earth home crumbles
I promised them I'd keep them safe and warm,
but when they pulled them out of that red clay
they were cold, lifeless.
I prayed. I asked for them to be brought back
to me, back to the house, to hear their laughter.
Instead, I was grabbing boulders and dirt.
The clay built up under my nails, but I kept
digging, I just couldn't reach them.
I am left with the images of the walls caving
in, my daughter and her cousin running,
my outstretched hand could feel the heat of
her life, the fear pulsing in her veins,
but I couldn't grab her hand.
I watched them disappear into the earth.
I spent three months digging, I just didn't know
that it would be a grave.