(for our lost ones…and elvis iyorngurum)

the night fires are no longer for fun tales
they are for the wake
of several deaths
not for the dead gone
but the living with lives long worn
out like winds sapped from souls

theories fly from diverse lands
rubbing sand into our eyes
even as we keep these fires

are you really a figment of our thoughts
a political statement
a stunt to destroy our famed luck?

the cold slaps us
as things get worse
hash tags fly but realities remain grounded
the days are still counting
yet the fires still crackle
as we wait at the wake