What are we waiting for?
We put the fires out.
The winters coming soon
and we’re still mourning.
Too afraid to move,
or break the fitful silence?
Or are we just procrastinating,
avoiding the inevitable,
out of fear?
Suffice it to say
we’re gonna die here;
one way
or another.
Either crying in the ashes
of a fire,
or sobbing as we’re building
and dying somewhere new.
It doesn’t really matter,
but it seems like a waste
to hide the beauty of our life
under all this wreckage.
Time is the way
we will all
become
equal.
It doesn’t matter
how any of us live.
Dying
is where we meet
our angel,
and living
is where we earn
our wings.
So, let us lift our eyes
and start to clear
the burned up memories.
Board by board,
and mementos
of our past,
carbonized,
gone,
but not forgotten;
resurrected
in the new things
we create.
Carry lumber
and swing a hammer.
Pour concrete
and cut to length.
A vision of the future,
sketched by the loss of the past.
Hang the doors and seat the windows,
lay the floor and run the wire.
Soon we will have a new life
in the place of the one we lost.
Love is stronger than our sorrow.
Faith, more constant than fire.
We will all pass from this earth,
but it is up to us how we will live in it.
HG – 2022
