The Fire
I had some news today.
The kind of news that sits on the surface
Skimming like oil on water.
Then, when least expected,
A match is dropped
And the oil burns.
I watched the fire
Dumbfounded
Knowing all I could do
Was to let it burn out.
There is nothing but ashes now.
The oil is gone.
The water is gone.
All that is left is a black, toxic sludge.
I stare
Knowing I need to face it.
Knowing I need to sift through
The ashes
And sludge
And fear
And horror
To find what's underneath.
Will anything be left?
Or will I be scorched
Condemned.
Copyright © Anna Wakefield | Year Posted 2024
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