Sepia Skies

Opening my eyes on the 9th of September
Seemed more like the transition
From wakefulness to a dream

Staring out the window
I was confronted by my expectations
For the sun, the light, for rhythm,
Circadian or otherwise

Though unlike other days
I could breathe without coughing,
I heard my hopelessness mirrored
In a bird’s anxious chirping

What is this warning
Echoing through my bones?

Perhaps it is a deep call
To come back to the basics
Of what is actually needed for this life

Are the fiery skies enough
To penetrate the malaise
Of the collective unconscious?

Or will we call it another freak incident
Until we ourselves are fleeing the flames
Wishing we took it more seriously when we could?