(Poem) Red Sky in Morning by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Outside my cabin window the sun’s crimson aura
rises like a blazing dahlia from some blazing underworld
to encircle the Earth in the summer morning sky.
She is not languorous and sultry in the humid air, but
passionate and vivid,
dressed for the occasion in rubies,
cherries, cardinals, finery bling the color of wine.
Still, not even the solar glory could hide the wildfire’s smell of
abrupt awakening, of panic, of inferno.

I do not understand how the Earth’s atmosphere
could swath our golden orb
in sublime hues no human artist could reproduce,
just to announce the fires ravaging the forest so far away.
Her strong, steady, knowing hands
Seemingly ignorant of what this shining, blushing glow portends.

Red is the color of life and birth,
creation at its most radiant, bountiful, wild, and unbroken.
Perhaps the Earth cannot help Herself but
respond with beauty no matter what the wounding.
It is Her nature, the nature of Nature,
A call to Earth’s children, ever reimagining us as our best selves.
What song will we sing now? Do we remember how to
sing a lullaby, a love song?

Red is the color of love and compassion
That ache when you think of leaving
this rich, verdant planet that alone is home,
so unique among the cosmos, so rich, so sensual, so saturated
in stories of the bonds between Earth and tens of thousands of generations.
When you realize that some day you will never again reach out to
touch a robin’s feather or dangle your toes in a stream,
you would give anything to heal Earth’s injuries  before it is too late.

Red is the color of transformation
by fire, by birth, by passion, as sure as
the sun slides away to make room for the
pink moon just visible as the day lingers.
Now I see the stark red flickers of the wildfire in her body.
Are these dawns and sunsets how the Earth
tosses us into the flames
so that we can grow into the maturity of our species?

Now, in the afternoon, the sun has shed its carmine hue
and is shining, like always, in an azure sky as if all is well.
Neighbors are gathered by the fuschia dianthus and
the orange marigolds marveling at the memories of the day’s beginning.
Some say the Earth is too patient and benevolent,
responding to her devastation with such magnificence.

Yet, perhaps the Earth cannot help Herself but
respond with beauty, love, and transformation.
It is Her greatest power.
We, made of Earth, can use our own greatest power to
turn these same elements into vision, a way forward
that protects and nurtures the life that lives on Her skin.
May we be worthy of Her faith in us. 

Last summer I had the joy of spending time on a shore by a lake.  Every day the sun rose and set in a blaze of red that was magnificent to see, but also terrifying because we knew that the strange color was caused by smoke from a wildfire that was thousands of miles away. For many days I pondered why the Earth would light up Her atmosphere in such beauty that was the result of the wildfire’s destruction. This poem is all the only answer I could think of.

(Meet Mago Contributor) Carolyn Lee Boyd