After wildfire,
in the enclosing wood
where bend of bough, like tuck of wound, 
cradles loss in darkness- 
please, 
time.
Time to pause, to sense,
for paws and scents to know
of safety’s approach.
For repair,
beneath dust-breath layer after dust-breath layer 
of grey white ash, does come:
New growth.
Pain, when given its due,
becomes not enemy
but ally and
its own necessary offering. 

 

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