A Poem about the Camp Fire

The flames, red hot

Soaring mountains of fury

Chocking lungs, the breathless lot

In dreadful smoke and hurry

Screams of wind and crackling wood

Explosions, bursts the tangled wires

Pray? But who would listen?

To countless souls suffering nature’s ire

In the vast expanse of man’s hubris

This poem was written during the Camp Fire when a cloud of smoke, vast and thick, subsumed the Bay Area. Up until then, I did not pay attention to California fires, they happened to rich people living in the hills, remote outposts far from us lowly city dwellers. However, living under the suffocating tyranny of that smoke woke me to the human tragedy and suffering that was unfolding. Day by day as lives, homes, and dreams were lost we went to work and went on with our lives — the world kept spinning without care. Crowds of people going from train cars, up escalators, and into the smoke without the slightest pause.