The Fig Tree Poem by Stephanie N Kjarbaek

You are like the fig tree cursed
Running away to the farlands
So remote there are no signals
With all your open wounds hidden
By carefully-design bandages
And barely healing unnursed
Your branches fade and I could
Say that it is not the season
But there will be no blossoms
And nothing to bear fruit from
Until your return, but it's your life
Your heaven and hell, your being
And in the midst of a hot summer
Where smoke rolls through the sky
Tree branches aflame settle on ground
And flaming leaves simply pass by
On a supposed summer breeze
With temperatures soaring above 100
Hotter than the inferno of dead bodies
Cremated for the afterlife
Watch as the blossoms rise and fade
Watch the blue cool skies of the morn
And the dried-up morning frost
The scent of spring dew feels alive
What up here in the atmosphere
Can hold on past the heat to survive.