The Forest
The sun fails to illuminate the dry
cracked earth through the haze
black swirling blankets the
membrane as it attempts to recover
the seared stems struggle through the ash
struggling to grow they crumple
exhausted and starved
praying to get a chance
gasping, asphyxiated from the lack of everything
the flicker of the blinding light
heats and melts anything in its path
leaving nothing but emptiness
the dust remains
coating the floor
blocking new life and
destroying the remains of living
night comes and brings the dew of the early morning
the forest awakens
the dust and grime that ices the ground
whisked away by the fresh dew of the calm sunrise
and the forest can grow again
Your poem flows really well, I really enjoy how it ends and begins of kind of the same note, with your title and your ending line including the word forest.
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