where is the sky again?

jsn Poems

it all began with a sheet of paper with some words neatly printed in orderly, feathered lines spaced in sections, evenly separated. the diagnosis: positive. the sheet fluttered down years rolling down like rolling hills in the horizon the childhood home just a weathered, yellowing poster of an unfamiliar place he walked gently into that good night the forest was friendly but didn't answer our calls, lost inside of pillars of salt and bark but a slow regression to incoherence the trees could talk and fear, but when we raised our axes, we couldn't hear a thing they screamed and screamed, drawing sap a rampart of sequoia, tangled and twisted built tough and strong but still writhing in pain linking their branches and forging a brittle bulwark but the loggers still kept taking, laying siege to the library of alexandria hidden in the fortress the lifework of scholars, just wisps of ash collages of photos and pictures left blackened and broken by the blaze but lost love won't heal itself now the logs won’t just run back to the forest winded, sprinting as fast as we could, but it only slowed and never stopped the maroon glow of the blazing forest our home is burning don't cry don't cry, my boy your legs haven't given up just yet, so run just don't look down and you'll be alright but below is the sky, and he looked up and asked, “where is the sky again? I look up and all I see is just an ashy floor and all I feel is my head hitting the ground” and he tripped and fell and there he laid. it all ended with a sheet of paper with some words messily scribbled in scattered, scrawled lines winding the earth split wide in a chasm a halo of stone resting above the grave: “here lies a man who forgot his own face feared the sky and loved the ground.”