Our cities lost to seas that curl the land,
Our sight becomes accustomed to the dark.
Our valleys host to flame that roars and brands,
The black turns blood to heat that floods and chokes.
The smells of burnt and broken brick are thick
In hair and teeth. The touch of stone is hot
Against each fingertip. The sky is sick
With ash that weighs each cloud with murk and rot.
The broken streets hold barefoot children’s cries.
As evidence of covenants ignored.
Our blazing grief expands like heat to rise
Until our souls are stilled by something more:
His light. His omnipotent voice gives hush
To grief. And warmth to wound. And pause to rush.
Lexie R. Kunz is a graduate at Utah State University with degrees in English and Communication Disorders. Lexie has been reading and daydreaming stories since she was five years old. She enjoys writing poetry and fiction, and her first attempts at poetry were inspired by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. She has been published in Edify Fiction, Sink Hollow Magazine, Red Fez, and Peacock Journal.
