After the Fire

Sitting in the fallout.

Pacing circles

in the day,

after day,

after day

after;

fighting for clarity.

 

Wandering past

old, familiar hearth stones.

Places I

formed my memories.

Everything’s a memory, now.

 

You can’t touch it.

No.

It’s still hot

from the blast,

from the fire.

Ash still rains down,

and the shadows

on the wall

are still there,

long after the people are gone.

 

There’s agony,

and wailing.

The lost,

and the found,

that wish

that they had been

counted among the dead.

 

I can’t tell you when,

but one day,

they sky will clear.

All this will disappear,

but I can’t say

we’ll live to see it.

 

Suffice it to say,

we’ve gone wrong

along the way,

but somehow,

that’s okay.

It’s all over now,

but the crying,

mourning,

and fear.

 

We’ll rebuild it,

better.

After the fire goes out.

 

 

HG – 2020

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