I write a lot about roofs over heads.
Maybe it’s because I can’t get the people
without homes out of my mind.
I can’t stop listing the ways
our actions provide shelter,
our kindness lighting the fires
that keep each other alive.
Our choices either build or destruct
creating sanctuaries from scratch,
or cremating a life into ashes.
The words we choose are flint,
able to ignite a flame,
sparking a fire every time.
They can either burn the house down
or warm the people inside.
When you see somebody
committing arson against humanity,
you still try to put out the fire
you didn’t start yourself.
Maybe you’re an innocent bystander,
but that doesn’t mean
you shouldn’t offer
another human being your help.