our emotions
are just like
wildfires sometimes
they have
the power to destroy
and consume us
yet sometimes
they have the
power to
rebuild worlds

As we got older, it became clear
that we wouldn’t have the luxuries

of drink without worry,
of sleep without restlessness,

of raising children
without fear for their survival.

It became clear
that we would never garner

the respect of our elders
no matter how dearly we pined for it,

and that the world itself
would smolder

while those responsible
rested comfortably in their graves,

and those of us to whom
our forebears’ sins were bequeathed

would be left to choke on the smoke
and ashes

of a promise to posterity
allowed to burn instead.

Orange shining through the window
We head outside to take a peek
Blue sky's to the North
A dark haze from the South

Small particulates drifting in the air
You reach out, and a piece lands on your hand
It looks like plant matter, only grey
You gently touch it with your free hand

. . . Ash.

We awoke to specks of white ash over our cars
the cloudy grey sky bore no sun just its heat
and the ocean breeze that cooled in my younger years had become futile
California burned
and although L.A  city did not
it was indeed a table that received a mantle of pollution

Hurting from torture

The Earth whimpers to the skies

Who turn their frosty cheeks

Betrayed, the Earth weeps

Black ancient tears

Remorseful, the skies let down

A corrosive shower of sorrows

Bloodied fog settles, suffocating

Maniacal, pushed off the edge

The Earth sets itself ablaze

Black ancient tears, fueling

Hysterical, the Earth smiles

                           ------

                As its demons burn

                           ------

                                Hysterical, the Earth smiles

                                 Black ancient tears, fueling

                                  The Earth sets itself ablaze

                            Maniacal, pushed off the edge
  
                       Bloodied fog settling, suffocating
  
                           A corrosive shower of sorrows

                           Remorseful, the skies let down
    
                                                Black ancient tears

                                   Betrayed, the Earth weeps

                              Who turn their frosty cheeks

                        The Earth whimpers to the skies

                                            Hurting from torture

you remind me of a certain someone,
someone who i was close to like no other,
who caused me so much pain and stress.
exhaustion is a mess and I won't do that to myself again.

and maybe if we burn
I can show you
all we are made of
is fragile skin and bone
we can drench ourselves
in kerosene
like the first rain of spring
we can find god in the rain.
all of these scars mean nothing
if we burn
all we are, are skin and bone
muscle means nothing to gasoline
love means nothing to wildfires.

when the word "****"
resonates from the lips of
any teacher, i cannot
help but perceive
how many students' heads
fall downward, staring at
their disquieted hands. i am
wondering how many people are closing
in on themselves, lips pressed together
in thin lines, burying themselves

six feet under into graves
constructed however long ago.
somewhere within the catastrophic enclosings
of their minds, they are the people
reminiscing violent robberies, not
of television sets or radios, but of
innocent souls. they are suffering
from the post-traumatic stress

of feeling  naked skin and cracked
ribcages and heaving lungs
never burn in the turbulent
wildfires left
behind in their burnt
lives; a simple word
is enough to have them
reliving the mournful
affair forming their
empty chest. i glance around the
room for students whose
memory gnaws at their
scarred skin, and

the  problem is
is that there are too many.