Helping hands.

My head is screaming

a high pitched wine,

as I sit half asleep on

a hard wood antique chair,

wondering what I could make of

the sounds that pulse in me,

and the panic of seeing others fall

trying to help them,

feeling some what helpless,

but hoping I am helping them

and making this a better place to live,

a place where one feels that you will be helped,

which reminded me of the great community effort

to help the fire department to fight the great fires

which were so destructive of the fauna and flora

on our wonderful mountain,

saving so many lives, so much property,

and so many animals and birds,

remembering too those that weren’t so lucky,

and knowing that the possibility of peace

is just there at the other side

of my screaming head,

and this increasingly hard seat.

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