She

don’t let me fester    
eaten away      
under the contrivance      
of      
the heaving sun;      
She    
sets smooth      
yet cheerfully ablaze      
the vanity      
of this      
thing they call      
war:      
anthropogenic      
in nature      
just not now      
as      
the cackling wind,      
curated brushes,      
and distressed trees,      
try      
pulling me      
from ash.