Ash sticks to my window

bits of black and white crumble under my fingertips
and this is only the edge
of a smoky sky,
as I am
in between the Valley and the Butte Fires,
wondering what I can do,
wishing I had a magical wand
to wave,

and yet sometimes the only thing is to pray,
but in our own ways,
because
there must
be more than giving in to defeat and
into the ruins,

seeing the ebb-and-flow
of being human
on this sphere of elements
is always a delicate balance,
so I pray,
sending thanks to the Great Spirit with my words:
honoring the air, the water, the earth, and even the fire,
finding a sense of solace
in a solitary reverence
for the majestic
that has been destroyed
and for the majestic
that will be rebuilt,

mountainsides that’ll sprout green
in a few months, and
then turn orange
covered by the California Poppies
in the Spring,
a sacred renewal
within the cyclic reverence
of tears and pain
that’s not soothing,
nor very forgiving,
but causes us
to see the elemental beauty
in a community creating anew,
as
the sky seems a little bit clearer today,
and the edge of hope
lingers like ash and smoke in the air.

Relephant: 

We Are Our Environment: What I Lost in the California Fires.

Author: Jes Wright

Editor: Renée Picard 

Photo Credit: Courtesy of Author