Questions of the Fire Dragon

and a cycle of emotions

The fire dragon dropped in
one evening after dinner,
the sky, way past sunset,
red, glowing, aflame,
she crashed into the garden
the other side of the drive
set trees ablaze
got us worried about gas bottles,
wood store, cedar car port,
wondering whether to leave or stay,
suitcases still unpacked
from our trip to Switzerland.
She crackled and spat,
What if fear
lives
inside yourself?
Do you believe any
thing
is yours to own?
Got us thinking of books and stuff,
heirlooms and jewellery,
house, home, laptops,
passport and life,
What use do you make
of
them anyway?
That's when we learned
dragons speak in questions.
She had a point,
and it was too late to leave.
She was gentle with us,
that fierce fire dragon.
Neighbours lost sheep that night,
friends a home or a life.
She was gone before dawn,
didn't apologise for the pines,
and the pepper tree did come back.
Panic paid a fleeting visit
two days later or three
in the faces of those
who had missed the questions
in the heat of their flight.
Shock hit us in the face
of every burnt forest,
smouldering cars by the kerb,
gutted houses in the village,
cremated landscapes,
in the aftermath of battle.
Did anyone declare war?
What happened to everyone,
children, women, men,
animals who lost a home,
or a life?
Did you have to be so greedy?
we cried and cursed
the dragon of fire.
Why did your greed
drive
me this far?
she fumed, and her breath
crimped the air.
Trauma crept under
our skins that night,
it was a Sunday in October.
Smoulders and scorches
for weeks and months,
erupts with every siren
year after year,
each plume of smoke
over the Ridge of the Stars
a dormant volcano
the slumbering ashes
of the earth
stoke their
embers.