Suns shinning bright cold winter rolling in. wind blowing bare face red not rosie, wind blowing ears tinged with snap pretending to be a postcard.
The back streets of every small city Christmas lights hung crooked pretending to be icicles Trees standing conspicuously in windows pretending to be alive.
Real ice wrapping branches with glistening grip pretending not to be killing, wires heavy with frozen rain while volts and amps curse their length pretending not to shock.
Walking legs propelled by sun and wind pretending they have someone to meet somewhere to go. Swing arms warm with affection pretending they have someone to hug.
Fire engines rush by desperate to save the home of someone pretending it will be ok. Neighbors rush with blankets and hugs pretending they won’t forget. Christmas presents thrown from flaming windows quickly covered in frozen salvation pretending they can be saved.
Cars crawl unnamed occupants straining to burn detail into memory pretending they know the skewed feelings of those left shelter-less, just weeks before Christmas.
All alone walking by the burning scene, water in my eyes my heart breaks into millions of fragments, not pretending to care, not pretending to feel dank desolation yet impotent to change the moment.
Violently I shake inside with quiet empathy thankful I feel the black horror of this moment thankful my heart opens to embrace the suffering surrounding me the gnashing of life against the jagged rocks birthing into each moment and thankful for the lone candle flickering in the neighbors window touching me and releasing tears of joy not pretending, just for right now.
