The grass is dead; heat
and lack of water condemned
it to a fiery death.
The sun sets the sky
on fire; the air vanishes
with the last ember.
The dark cannot grant
reprieve from the constant heat;
our sweat turns to ash.
There is no relief.
Our father has failed us all
The sun chars the dark.
God smells of stale death in ice;
A silent corpse’s last breath.
(March 24, 2025)
subtext 