The land knows
what we refuse to learn:
sometimes you must destroy
what has come before to create
new, unsullied things.
***
There are places my feet have trod
that are gone
never to be loved again.
The fire consumes
slowly, with enough time to flee
yet still relentless in remaking.
***
The ash like snow, blankets
the black cracked land covering
all that came before.
A goddess shows her children
the wisdom of destruction
***
The swordfern, the Ohia Lehua take
their first breaths, explore, make
a mission of re-seeding.
***
What comes next will be better,
and if not?
We burn it down again.
