When lightning strikes close to home,
firemen are holy leaders.
Those great hinges in people’s lives
that turn around harrowing bolts,
lightening all that came before,
fires lighting the unavoidable path
through flame to the door.
Open the hearth with song anyway
or curse when that is the song you learned,
when fires burning for cooking burned,
water boiling, the day begun,
laundry done, the hinge has turned
and the air is clean from ions,
the mind responded to thunder, speaking,
reminder we’re not alone nor mighty.
Someone daily takes a direct hit.
When lightning strikes close to home
the transformer smokes, lights go out,
when children stand open-mouthed
at the window streaming with rain,
and someone raises her voice in song.
sundayat6mag 