Ecological Grief

My grief is on fire today
and so is the mountain.
The air is thick.
It burns my throat.
I inhale. I choke.
Sirens wail behind the smoke,
rotor blades pierce through the density.
The surfaces of my apartment,
of my heart,
are covered in ash.
The remains of Mother Nature
fall softly to the ground
unperturbed by the chaos surrounding.
As if to say,
“Continue your destruction,
and I will continue to fall.”
The sun glows apocalyptic.
She too knows of our destruction.
Night falls and our beloved Table is littered with flames.
The world is burning.
The future is burning.
And my soul grieves.

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