Will I sit back and laugh when the world burns?
tired of sadly shaking my head
hide my face from the heat
singe the hairs of my hands?
or turning and walking away?
run
tired of the heat
petty games of blame
finger pointing
am I carrying the buckets all alone?
one spot of green left
wet my plants
wet my pants
Sitting on the curb,
ash falls around
I long for the cold shower
the fuller's soap
To stand clean from the filth of this time
filth of the times that have brought us to this
too many have sold themselves
turned natural beauty into plastic
earth and soul
to be redeemed
a power
I, alone, do not possess
