The world has gone mad, spinning off its axis again.
And I am left here holding this remnant of the truth in my hands,

afraid to bring it inside 
afraid it will melt next to my body’s heat.

It is not heavy 
not really.
but a burden,
a delicate  thing held in gloved hands.

I refuse to be bought by this madness.

I won’t be among those who have forgotten a world before the ash.

I remember cool breezes coming off the mountains on hot summer days, before they shattered the mountains.

I remember snow.