Hope was virtually gone.

The searchers knew the look.

Sixteen months on,

They had exhausted the book.

Their faces smeared with grime,

Their lungs clogged with dust.

Searching all this time,

Because they could, because they must.

Surely no survivors now

From 2020’s sudden collapse.

Every stone upturned, and how,

Light shone in smallest gaps.

Their helmets pushed right back,

Their gloves at last removed,

Each torch replaced in rack,

Each worst fear finally proved.

Sixteen months later,

After everything they’d done,

They contemplate the crater

That once was 2021.

Time to call it quits,

Every duty has been done.

Let it rest where it sits,

The past sets with the sun.

Then the door slams back,

Thermal team has news.

Faces scarred and black,

Fresh blood on their shoes.

Everyone on their feet,

Scattering floral shrines.

A trace of body heat,

The tiny fragile signs

Of life.