Ash is tumbling cloud-like from the sky;
dulling our freckles and filling our mouths,
the bitter taste of betrayal without a name.
It swells, ink in the sea,
permeating every inch of blue.
Until – you sing,
make up the words as you go along.
The ash settles and flowers bloom
in the heart with soot sodden walls;
the letters trace their fingertips
through the dark and draw a smile:
the world isn’t ending, after all.
Photograph & poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019