The Fire

I feel the wind change as a fire ravages the countryside. It is cold here, but I can feel the snow melting in my branches. I look out over my friends and hear a voice wafted on the wind.

“What is left?” the voice cries, “The fires have come and gone. They have left me behind. Abandoned. Alone. I stand here silent with nothing but ashes. The evidence of something that was. Who by looking can tell what has been? Everything I worked for. Everything I loved. Gone. What remains in this barren wasteland? What comfort can be gleaned from the ashes? Somewhere a hope may live on, but not  here. Nothing is here.”

I call to the hawk and attach my message to his wings.

You are beloved. 
You are beloved. 
A world awaits you that you cannot see, but remember this. 
Remember that you are beloved.