Smokestack

I will not forgive
I can not forgive
Them
A dry tear traces the arroyo
Down Grandmother’s cheek


Grandfather says
I can not bear the smell
Of autumn - the burning of
Already dead leaves


They both agree that
Six million murdered
Was more than one too many


I was not there
But the smoke has laid down
Genetic codes in my nostrils
Until everything smells acrid
I cradle their suffering in my womb


I had never seen the smokestack
Until one day as I stood on the edge
Of an apple orchard in
Pleasant Hill cemetery it
Belched a thick smoke


Then smokestacks were everywhere
Chimneys and water towers
The crown of redwood trees


Why? I wailed but the fine ash
From their bones filled my ears
Silencing the answer


“I am here
I have always been here
I am the smokestack
I am the mortar and the brick
The fire the smoke
The ash”


The white words fall like apple
Blossoms around my ears
Lay down a path before my feet


- Sally Churgel