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reflections on wildfire

I would be lying if I said it was the first time I saw a mountainside marked in gold

a forest full of birdsong

reduced to a memory

in its place are its blackened remnants

I cant count on my fingers how many times I’ve seen

the sun rise red

or how many days

I’ve gone without seeing the sky

confusing snow with falling ash

I’ve already said goodbye to the places I love

maybe it’ll hurt less now than later

later could be 10 years from now,

next summer or tomorrow

but our mother is burning

and soon we will too