Our pocket of the world
Is engulfed in violent flames
That turn our blue sky
Gray as ash.
I’m afraid for the firefighters,
Afraid for the residents,
Afraid for the forests,
Afraid for the future.
If I spell out that fear,
Will it lessen
Or consume me
Even more?
How do I find
A zen-like peace
When the acrid smell of smoke
Pollutes every in-breath?
When we are helpless
Against colossal destruction,
And tears won’t douse the fires,
Do we cry anyway?
I’m weeping for the world
Whether it helps or not;
I’m praying for the sky
To mourn with me.
Awake & Amused 
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