Not light’s version

A child from the past:

We always knew the world
would crack open like this, in our lifetime.
The walls, the fences, the resembling
governments looking past faces into the fire
of maps on the long table. Forest sounds.

A gun. A chemical. A bomb.
Something leaking light. Then, not light.
Then, not light’s version of everything.
Then, that, after it touches something.