Wildfire: Before, During, After
I.
Born in a blood orange haze,
a torture of sound batters my ears;
the front-running wind, howling dervish,
whipped into a firestorm frenzy.
II.
Potato-and-earth-smell invades our tub, drifting down
from wet sacks above. A fort, Mum said,
before she left. She's thrice returned,
refilling her bucket to battle 'The Embers'.
I hold my wooden sword close
in case they come for my brothers.
III.
As I wander the rubble, a stone chimney topples;
my boots are caked in death. By one cracked toe,
life pushes through--a red-orange hood,
tipped with gold. Christmas Bells ring
in my playground of ash.
Comments
God, please save Australia.
Regina
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Thank you, Regina
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