I wrote this poem over the summer. Since my city has been literally on fire for over a week, it’s been running through my head. Maybe it will mean something to you too.

The Earth does not burn.

Though the fire rage,

Flames searing life from limb,

And though a thousand small creatures are smoked

from their homes;

Though the green field lie black

And an acre stand for a hundred,

And the very water be sucked

From streams and earth,

The earth will not burn.

But she will dig deep into her bosom

And with the ashes of what was

And the endless possibilities of what could be

She will weave a new world

And the newborn leaves will be crafted

From molecules that once

Belonged to the bark of the old-guard trees,

And the rabbits that nestle

in the rich loam

Will be nourished by the atoms of charred flowers,

And the streams that flow fresh through that second Eden

Will hold the very water sent up in boiling agony.

The earth does not burn

And life, broken as it is,

Will go on.