i do not remember.

what is the difference between a home
and a skyline? hope
is a thing with feathers that cannot fly,
so we carry it with us.
i see a shadow across the sky
and they tell me it is terror.
i see a shadow across the sky
and they tell me it is nature.
circle back and it all
looks different from above.
the astronauts would not see us from up there.

i cannot see myself from up here.

there was gray that day.
partly cloudy with a chance
of wet pavement without rain,

i thrive in the ashes but
others are not so lucky.

turn back the clock.
if you could go back, what would you change?
would you go back?
would i go back?
would it be that i stood in the wreckage
of that last day
and pretended i could remember?
there is no difference between a home
and a skyline.
not when everything is burning.

and i do not remember.