POETRY

The Rocky Mountains Are Burning, They Say

Still, I hope

Photo by Lars Portjanow on Unsplash

I step onto the walking path, alive and awake pine and cottonwoods, green, tall, vibrant and still rabbits, squirrels, birds nowhere near

Does life still flow?

An eerie feeling, somber skies hidden behind the expanse above confusion, uncertainty, and ugliness anxiety, scarcity, fear, I gasp

The flow has stopped

I walk toward the flames hidden beyond my line of sight in majestic mountain hills far away thousands of homes charred to the ground and beyond cries, screams, loss, and pain

No end in sight and still in the fight

“The Rocky Mountains are burning,” they say “The West is on fire,” they say ashes, ashes, do we all fall down? fire-smoke in my lungs grief and loss in my heart air still, silent, sticky and icky

Still, I hope

I wait in anticipation for clouds to burst open their fury and might for death to clear birds to chant again deer to meander into the wild again

For life to flow again

Photo by Fahimeh Mehrabi on Unsplash

I usually don’t write poetry, but I was inspired to write this in response to a prompt from author Suma Narayan for the month of July.

[embed]Lighting a Candle, Instead of Cursing the Darkness Where there’s life, there’s hopemedium.com

© Copyright Vilma G. Reynoso 2026

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