Rivers Of Fire
Emily A. Arnold M.
This place I came to.
No, moved to.
No, left my old life for.
No, got taken to.
I hated it.
I saw everything ugly about this place.
Where was the beauty anyway? Where was the beauty of this place that stole my old life from me?
There was none. I hate this place.
Cigarette butts on the ground
I hate it.
Everything in disrepair
I hate it.
Old posters, disintegrating
Houses falling apart
Knowing no one
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I HATE IT, LET ME GO HOME
The trees are gorgeous.
The tree’s leaves are changing color, it’s fall and the wind is crisp and the leaves are amazing…
You know what else looks gorgeous?
The way they look in the morning when they’re flat.
The way they look in the afternoon when they’re choppy and you can see light reflecting off each wave.
The way the sunset ignites them, turning them into rivers of fire.
The way we find solace in these rivers, being on them, traversing the rivers of fire in a boat powered by new people we’ve met.
So many things are beautiful, look for them.
The new people you’ve met, come to enjoy.
The bridges, crisscrossing over the fire.
The architecture that forms
Graceful tall buildings
Or makes the universities,
The great places of learning
Beautiful knowledge, the reason I was taken here
The sunsets themselves, painting
The sky behind the green hills
The new people, now friends who work with us to help move through the fire.
And again, the sky, the ever changing sky: grey, pink, red and sometimes clear, clean blue.
The orange sky, the spark.
Now we…. I, have grown to love the beautiful parts of this city.
I found my solace and motivation in those rivers of fire.
I think I’m glad I’m here now.