Wildfire

California’s burning.

in the canyons of my childhood,

sap explodes in the vicious heat,

and the sacred smell of burning sage

is borne before the smoke.

on the hilly scrubland,

walls of ravenous flame devour my hills.

smoke chokes and conceals in day,

and at night the only light

comes from the marauding army.

watch as it invades, razing neighborhoods,

leaping from home to home

with murderous intent.

see the man with a hose,

a puny little green garden hose

(the same width as countless squirming snakes

roasted in the sand).

futilely, he squirts his toy,

waving off demons on all sides.

they chuckle, and attack.

thank an indifferent god his son survives.

devilsparks ride the lusty wind,

landing to set fire to fresh victims

with cackles of delight.

don’t look up, into the shadowy ghosts

of your homeland.

don’t look around, the inferno ravages

on every side.

don’t look down – you must look up and around

to run, run, FLY, for God’s sake!

but don’t breathe in: malicious shades

of what you knew wait to strangle you,

to tear you down into the jaws of an all-familiar

Hell.