Portents of Certainty

I smell a burning on the wind.
I taste lightning on the breeze.
I feel the earth inhaling
for a volcanic shout.

I see hordes beyond the horizon
when I close my eyes to sleep.
I know the roof above my head
will fall before I wake.

What is constant fear
but common sense,
when calamity
is certain?

The End of Days may come
and swallow up all life and light,
but in the cold and dark, before I die,
I will laugh—for I was right.

 

This poem is dedicated to Tara Westover, author of the tremendously important memoir, Educated.  I could not imagine a book that encompasses the current political, religious, and cultural moment so completely.

~ Ceridwen