The Greenest Hope Poem by Millie Fraser

It's all over.
I stand in the field that was once a forest.
My bare feet stir the embers,
And the glowing charcoal burns softly against my skin.
As the last of the trees fall in the distance,
Their twisting forms crumple like bones.
The ash scatters,
And the air is thick and heavy.
I breathe,
It lingers, stale and warm in my lungs
And I imagine the inside of my body to be coated with a chalky residue.
As another black figure disapears,
I too let myself drop.
My legs crash into the scorched mess
And I plunge my hands deep into the burnt soil.
Water slips from my closed eyes, hissing where it lands.
When I find the strength,
I stand and walk.
My blistered fingers clutching the smallest green root.