For H. Bosch, painter, Paul Feder, pediatrician, and Steve Waltcher, green doctor

I.
Hear now — the fire tenders!

II.
The tenders create conflagration,
know just what hell looks like,
keep mournful memories of

Destruction— infinite inflammation—
who commemorate madness,
broiled in the ovens of Hades,

Who see beauty in transformation.

Once a twelve-year-old boy, away
for a day, watched his city burn
utterly. Yet still another time, one

Young foot soldier marched to end
the last days of cruel conflagration
called World War Two.

And a gentle doctor built a yurt in
a central Californian forest, only
to find himself fighting a mighty

Fire— first alone for hours and hours,
then with newfound friends for days,
nights, joining to hold back the line.

III.
There is resistance to flashbacks—
fear of flying into the realm of
desolation, growing darker still.

Yet, they are ones who would die to
go deep, who bring up infernal Earth
energies, who warm writhing Spirits

Of others’ cold, trembling with fright.
The tenders have seen challenge
with awe-inspired authenticity.

IV.
Tenders take relentless responsibility.
Knowing relief of grief — their tears
a reunion with the passionate child

Lost in guilt. They find their
hearts in sorrow,
their joy in loss.

V.
The tenders hold the birthplace
of art. Beauty leaps forth there.
Horses gallop and their hands

Emerge to praise trees,
flowers, to capture time—
revering life’s purpose.

VI.
The tenders hold unconditional
love, like mothers— cherishing
their mothers— questioning

Their daughters— treasuring nature—
no shame, no judgement. All alone
within the cycles.

The tenders nurture, sustain
the lives of lives of children,
adore artists with generative

Persistence, like mothers.

Tenders sense synchronicity of
heat and drought, of dry lightning,
of the wind, of wells and pumps,

Of ash and smoke, of being alone,
met by others with no schooling
in fire fighting, or in mending

Wounded hoses, awakening
night, dampening the embers.
Suddenly, tenders fall free.

VII.
Held in cosmic arms of love,
they cannot forget the dance.
They have grieved the loss

Of youth, yet are attracted to
sing in the elders’ rhythms.

VIII.
The tenders move multitudes,
make marches, blaze towards
unity with generosity and curiosity,

Forging the authentic path to change.