Gravity

The fire has faded away.
Through cool ashes
and over unknown corpses
we walk back
to where we came from.
 

Back to search for a drop of water.
Back to close the doors
of our neighbours’ houses
where walls and windows have disappeared.
Back to gather toys to keep
for those yet unborn to play with
when they need to forget
what they have never remembered.
Back to share food with friends and strangers
while our children beg for bread.
Back to find truth in a grain of life.
 

It will be many summers
before the cherry trees will bloom again.
But when they eventually do
we will make a great and joyful fire
to celebrate their return.
Never mind the water.
 

If I could only remember why
we actually ran from the blaze in the first place?