WILDFIRES
The ash on the car’s windshield
disturbs, as if an extinct species
had landed on the glass,
in ghost form, to call out
her death – Where were you
when I was alive? she asks.
And I have no answer.
I wasn’t nearby, I sigh,
knowing full well that is
not a good excuse.
Where were you? you? you?
A disturbing piece eternally tugging at the conscience. This poem reminds us how we feel when something terrible happens to a loved one and we end up always contemplating all the things we could have done to save the situation if only we were around. It is a burden that follows people to their graves.