some in fire

if the world failed its mercy
and did not go down burning
if instead it went scavenging
hollow-eyed
and hollowed out the sidewalks
if we were standing in the ruins
and the city was still standing
and the heads turned
whenever one of us gasped
the dream dried quietly
and mingled with the dust
soft on the pavement
and left us alone in the sunlight

if the weight of the day drove us down
and if we were nothing but fallen
were no more than leaves
too heavy to be blown

then we must kindle ourselves
for when the wind comes whispering
the name of the smoke