Entire homes, people, treasures
Burned up, in seconds like
They never existed.
Their remnants blow in the wind, choking
Our lungs, begging us to
The breezes move in cold, dry air and
None of us can breathe without
I woke up that day, and it was
At noon that day, it was
Darker, more ominous.
I stepped outside to see it, to enter
Another planet altogether.
Particles on my skin, clinging,
A mask fastened to my face.
An apocalyptic space adventure in my very own
There it was, I could make out a shape.
A scraggly baby Robin, spotted and
The Kestrel, small and vicious, perched
In its usual place. Even today.
Their voices were muted, in the thickness of the
Smog. But they are still
singing, they are still
The blanket of smoke and dead things did
Eventually lift, but our bodies
Will never lose those weeks of
Grief. Days spent holding our
Breath, dust covering every living thing.
Death mixed with life, reminding us all
That this place, this planet
Is stronger than us. Volatile, mighty and
Vengeful at times. We are not
We must stop to listen.