the ashes have gathered against skyline and upturned plan

making late summer a hazy funeral

 

I breathe in the forest fires

the old oaks and their stifled fates

and every breath becomes a wake

 

you say my activism is ignorance

say I can’t know without your degree

the statistics course you took in 1983

 

but the forest is still burning

and you, a boy frying ants with a magnifying glass

so proud of what you have reduced to ash

 

I have seen your kind before

 

I have watched as a generation of Puerto Ricans turned to ash

and you argued over which bodies were worth saving

 

I have seen your kind before

 

you use your privilege to bury your bodies

deny blame for cut trees while holding the axe

so one day you, like Jesus, can walk atop the storm you have created

 

but the forest is still burning

the sky is still red

 I am still coughing from the smoke

 

and you are right

I know nothing of lecture halls or degrees

but what I do know

 I know for sure

 

dear sir

we are rising

 

the ocean is frothing, air swirling, ivy climbing over walls

all the elements are on our side

 

we are unafraid, unapologetic and loud

mother nature taught us the best way to create calamity

not smoke signal, but forest fire

 

hearts of flame as we fill your streets like a tidal wave

today, there will be no burial

today, we rise from the dead

 

tell me again of my own stupidity

make me cry

my tears will water a revolution

all your words will turn to ash

 

tell me again of all it is that you know

because what I know

dear sir

 

is your degree will not protect you

when we bloom