Garden of the Ashes [Day 18]

Behind the valley of the green, we became the chances
we were never going to get- silent promises and

nods which proclaimed of a city as lush in its roots
as burning in the fires which surrounded it:

we came from the Garden of the Ashes, a fire alarm
awoke those of us who wished to stay, but we stoked

the flame and held the children, as the city turned to dust
wondering who had known to name it the way it was;

the Lord in the clouds laughed, too pleased to dribble
his anger, his thunder amiss, so we picked our berries,

not leaving any behind, not waiting for the Gods to bless
our crop: we carried the fruit all the way, planted the

flame inside the belly of the land behind the valley of
the green, collected firewood and waited for the rain

leaving behind the homes we loved and ourselves,

again and again.


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