Firestorm

Transformed

into a fireplace,

smoke and ash, floating and falling,

embers glowing in the distance.

It was our home, it was our street.

Gray sun, gray sky.

Chimneys like gravestones.

Buried treasures never again found.

Who do I blame?

Which fingers get to point?

No answer, no confession.

And, no strength as strong as hers.

She will rip and scorch all in her path,

with no explanation, no apology.

She leaves only her promise

of returning again.