The cackling heat sets ablaze on the
yellow field
They’re heads lowered and turned in the
opposite direction where grey clouds loom
They must prepare their stalk to root a
firm grip into the earth so that maybe
Just maybe — they’ll survive this storm
This storm so familiar yet a stranger at the
same time
Perhaps, a hurricane in disguise?
The heat is quickly approaching and
ashes are burning darker
Surely this storm will bring relief to their
burnt petals like a cleansing for the bad
memories
But it feels so distant, unreachable, cold
They feel the red as it blurs their vision
and licks a hot path up their thin backs
I’m hoping it will swallow them whole until I
can finally burst out of this oblivion
The sky is clearing and they’re drifting
away with the thick smoke
It was not a hurricane in disguise but a
false god hallucinating hope
And wherever the wind chooses to take
them, I pray that my final resting place is
with them
- n.n.b