
Michaela
World on Fire
Beauty.
Fire looming and smoke pluming and all Isee is beauty
Through metal eyes that cannot cry and I make myself a stone
Skipped across the creek sunk in its bed, too weak
To douse, and the wind picks up and all these
Four at war and is the ether either hearing or heeding?
We have ourselves.
We have each other.
Our world needs, our world weeps, and we let our power lie.
How long before we rise?