On a Burnt Hill


On a Burnt Hill


Social media shows a face

Unlike my own but full of grace.

White whiskers burnt, scared eyes

Weak mews like human baby cries.


I am so touched I wish my tears

Could rain the fires and calm its fears.


The face is orange but I don’t care

Sweet little one holds my stare


All the smoke-filled stars standstill

No human face touches my will

More than this small kitten in human hands

Scarred by damage to its homelands.

So kneeling quietly in prayer

For that small creature suffering there

I know all lives matter large or small.

Please Lord, have mercy on them all.



Lynette G. Esposito


Lynette G. Esposito, MA Rutgers, has been published in Reader's Digest, Poetry Quarterly, North of Oxford, Remembered Arts, Twin Decades, Fox Chase Review, Deep Overstock and others.  She was married to Attilio Esposito and lives in Southern New Jersey with seven bossy feline muses. 

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