those who protect forests
sometimes set fire to them.
they must have nightmares
of red and orange eating their trees,
of thick smoke choking their fauna.
must shake in rage to think
of careless campers leaving a natural stove
still smoldering, still a threat.
must bless every rainy day in relief
of knowing there will be no burning.
and yet they take the flame in hand,
they lean down and release it,
let it free upon the forest they love:
because under their control, it gives life
through the consumption of the dead.
yet there must be a thrill of terror
to see the fire, even as you tell yourself
that this is what is best. to hold the heat
against what you have loved,
what you may love even as you know
you must eliminate it to move on.
if you close your eyes
as you let it burn,
no one will know,
and the fire will still heal you.
Taken from “Burn” by Phillippa Soo and this Dear Dana article.
Hope by Write 