Maelstrom Fire

Days ago, I journeyed through a maelstrom as the world caught fire. Arson of the highest degree of heat and treason. I was able to escape the carnage in the midst of the confusion. I lost my way, searching for lower ground to escape the black ash and smoke filling the air and blinding my eyes, making everything unrecognizable. I covered my face with a babushka and pressed through the crowds until I came upon a manhole. I climbed down into the sewers to wait. I didn’t carry much food, and my water is contaminated with ash and dust from the scramble. I pray things quiet down soon enough to live to see the end of this madness.

When I came through, I am the only one to see what burned. For the idea of what burned is already forgotten by those who burned it. Lifeless, charred bodies are scattered through the streets. the hope of the resistance sputtering like the lingering flames along what used to be grass. The chaos and confusion misplaced the passion, incurring violence and direct insurrection. The war jets responded too quickly for this to be a random occurrence. The missiles were already locked in, aimed for the protest. The city lied in ruins. Help is far from ever coming. All that is burned is forgotten by those who burned it.

Misfits, hustlers, and blue collar workers were all gathered here for answers. I among them to find her. Heart the size of this world’s deepest canyon, she tirelessly fights to give a voice to the people. This gathering, her way of showing each one of them the support of the other through community. I came to warn her. I came to tell her the jets overhead were not there to protect her. I knew I was putting myself in danger. I could not bare the thought of losing her. Swallowed by the maelstrom, she disappeared in the smoke. All evidence that would help me find her was set ablaze, surely apart of fields miles away, adrift in the wind. I can’t report her missing, the powers that be are behind the devastation. And all that is burned is forgotten by those who burned it.

All that is burned is forgotten by those who burned it.

No stake, no claim to the promised glory.

No skin in the game, nothing to lose in the pain.

No good fortune comes to anyone who is inhibited the chance to earn it,

And all that is burned is forgotten by those who burned it.

~A piece written in collaboration with The Grimn~