NaPoWriMo 2025 - day twentyfour

They told me everything had burned.
There was nothing they could do;
the fire moved too quickly.
Like gossip. Like anger.
No one had taken an inventory.
How would we rebuild? How much
do we really remember? Years
of stories, milestones, memories.
Everything fades. What we once held
as true becomes too much work,
or the weight of marking time
throws us off balance, pushes us,
pulls us one way, then another,
the ground shifting, wind,
fire in the ground smouldering
for days, weeks, months.
Now we keep watch. We try
to keep our footing.