I don’t usually write poems, but this one came to me late last night…
I couldn’t sleep, so I did some journaling in my office, and a lot of feelings showed up. I took a class earlier on ‘writing without thinking’, and tried to apply the lessons and channel them into my writing. I did my best to get out of my own way and let the writing write itself.
I woke up in alarm at the sight of my window,
Instead of morning light, an ominous orange glow
Yet we go on working, pretending all is well,
Doing our best to ignore the warning bell
Falling ash that looks like snow,
Fire and ice together, it’s one hell of a show
In a single spec of dust there is so much to see,
A history of a million lives, a rich tapestry
The past is past, but the future now burns,
With every day we don’t act, another life churns
Everywhere we look, the horizons glisten
What will it take for us to finally listen?
The world sits idle in a seat of fantasy,
Another story cut short, never to b—