Dread - June 23 2023

 

Dread

June 23 2023



I could smell it first,

an acrid scent

in the hot dry air.

Not heavy enough to see

at least not yet;

although the morning sun

was just an orange orb

in a claustrophobic sky.

Wildfires

raging to the west of us.

And with not nearly enough

men or machines

they're leaving them to burn.

A sharp stinging smell

that has me on edge;

as if some atavistic fear

in my DNA

had set every cell of my being

on high alert.

Like the singed and fearful animals

who are fleeing the woods

in a blind stampede,

the lion

side-by-side with the lamb

in the communal panic of fire.

As in Eden before the fall

and the Arc in the Biblical flood,

when predator and prey

lay down together

for the first and last time.

As if Paradise

and this hell on earth

had anything at all in common.

Except, perhaps, for God;

looking down

on His creation

and shaking His head,

as the stewards assigned its care

betray His trust.

Becoming aware

of their nakedness.

Committing acts of depravity.

Setting the world on fire.

The air has visibly thickened

the wind is picking up.

The smell is stronger now,

and I feel an awful dread

rise in my gut,

an overwhelming urge

to run.