Waldo Canyon Fire I


I am a car crash
Cranked metal twisting beyond recognition and freshly destroyed
I am not rusted
The fury of my hands colliding
Asking why asking how asking anything at all because any answer would be better than this
And yet I’m not
It’s not about me
My face distorted in shock
In guilt
And yet it must be hidden: a secret shame of undiluted fear for others
Not myself
This is not about me
It’s about children needing me to hold it together
It’s my love on a fiery mountainside as the flame wave comes like a locomotive screeching when it sees the firefighters
Their terror hidden in back pockets
These are the foothills of my young life
Where my loves go to play
Skeleton trees
Ash strewn in the air catching in throats
Catching catching gleaning peaking short of where my house lies below
The rocks
Scorched but incapable of conducting
It is a wasted effort
Directed redirected reaching arching
Something more
And I’m lucky
Everything that matters still is
The trauma has passed in the wind wisps faded
Embers blown
Eyes streaming still and for what
Nightmares shall pass
Hunger shall return
And this night is but a drop in a sea of restless nights in Colorado summer
For certainly we are lucky happy family untouched
Surpassing glory of the impact
It is through
Through to color memories of insufficiencies and bittersweet consolation prizes
Certain and savor the notion that we are lucky happy
No longer


5 thoughts on “Waldo Canyon Fire I

  1. Hi, I think your poem has a depth and caring that wrap threads of interest around my mind! I feel horrible about this horrific fire and I hope everyone you love is safe today! As a survivor of several tragedies and near misses, I can tell you that this will change you and strengthen your resolve! Always save your best try for your worst day! Thank you for the follow! Stay strong!

  2. Used to live at Rockrimmon & Delmonico, now trapped in New York. Every picture I see from the fire is jarring. (That evacuation picture of yours looks like Allegheny, the road named after its speed bumps) Hope all has gotten back to something approaching normal for you. As for me, I hope to come out for a chuckwagon dinner again in a couple of years.

    • The picture is Silent Rain which is one street north of Allegheny, but Allegheny is the street I grew up on (my mom still lives there and I had to go to her house and her things before evacuating the area). I have a couple pictures from being stuck on Allegheny for 30 min. I actually contemplated taking my Jeep around Foothills Elementary school to get out faster but I knew I’d just be cutting in front of other people. I’m glad that you’re stuck in New York. You didn’t need to be around this.

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