Thanksgiving

The day I knew what I had to do There were no fires burning Anywhere in California, So it wasn’t impossible to think ahead.... And I heard my own voice Pushing me out the door Without anyone following, No guidance from the wounded, So I let each foot touch the ground Like an amateur hiker Who knew Mt. Everest Was beckoning on a cold Thanksgiving morning, A white temple of light that ignited a cloud ridden landscape Like an army of seraphim Rising out of nowhere, Letting me know that pressing on Would unleash the savior.