Red Crossed Star

On a California ridge, many million years old

Carved out of the earth by glacial desire

Just two paths eaten at the edges hold

The rest swept away by the breath of fire

Ancient hunters in the snow-topped light

The last of the deer til the warm months come

Then the Spanish soldiers, and missionary wine

And American houses, all glass and sun

Grass and water, and open sky

Fading memories of genocide

Distant mountains, receding sand

Mass conversion, and stolen land

We’re born into a world that’s already half gone

No matter the year or the flags they fly

And all we can do is spend the time that we’re on

And hope that we love enough before we die

But here come the flames, and the flooding plains

Blowback from ghosts and the papers they signed

A chain of events so hard to explain

Even with blood and the myths combined

Rotting leaves on the dampened ground

Smelling sweeter than the last time round

A spark will never travel half as far

From California and a red crossed star