For She Who Glories in Peace, a poem for my friend's unborn daughter

When you are born
the world will be on fire.
You will be given one clay pot
filled to the brim
with pure
fresh water.
It won't quench all the flames,
but you must remove the lid
pour the life-giving fluid
onto the world
and quench the flames you can.

And in the damp,
charred earth
one small seed will fall
break apart
and finally
grow.

Looking down at that one green spot
that you helped usher into the world,
you'll know

It takes all of us to make the forest.