Fire Poem
A piece of paper
Drifted down
From the sky
Amidst the ash and dirt.
The paper was part of a dictionary.
It landed by the sanctuary door.
The words defined were
Tempest
And
Temple
And so it was,
From the tempest to the temple
From the storm of fire to the sanctuary
And on the edge of the page
Partially charred
The word
Temporary…
Scattered over rooms and fields
The pieces of my life
Are not to be gathered
“Take your valuables,” they say.
They are scattered
They cannot be gathered.
Ceaseless roaming
Scattered memories
Can all of what I care about
Fit on this memory stick?
– Barbara Hirschfield