That I Am Burning

Sunset has painted the sky in lullaby blue

with orange, red radiant strokes. Sea froth

foams as gentle crests break and draw against

lenient sands. Everything speaks quiet and

I know I should feel wide, let the breeze whisper

soft promises in me. But I don’t.

It is now that I look for doors in place of windows.

Now that I see empty shells crashed against rock, broken

bodies, discarded bottles, shattered and rolled

into polished bits of fine, murky glass. In beach

fires I see dark shadows instead of light, raised

arms in rising flames, crackling bright voices under

smoke. Nothing calms me like burning;

this pile of logs that once were rooted-living

things, bright bones that remember reaching

hard for sunlight, now sticks, consumed in bright licks,

in violent snaps and flutters that float and settle

and cover the world in layers of elegant seedling ash. 

Reviews

[Creepy Swine Guy]

"... now sticks, consumed in bright licks,
in violent snaps and flutters that float and settle
and cover the world in layers of elegant seedling ash. "

I REALLY like that last stanza. I like how you turn the fire into something alive, something that is consuming the logs.

But most of all "seedling ash". This end suggests that it is not an end but a beginning, and it sets me to wondering ... "the beginning of what?"

[Kristina Moulaison]

Thanks! Yes, I can't help but end in hope, even while contemplating my own demise. It's the only way to be, I suppose.

[Kristina Moulaison]

I always go back and read these and think, oh my god, who punctuated these. Jesus!

[TheRaven]

This is gorgeous. The visuals for starters are incredibly evocative. I'm already remembering a moment with my friends out on Huntington Beach sitting around by the fire watching the wood burn down into ashes as the sun sets down over the horizon. But, I also get this sense of darkness here; first noting the looks to empty shells, broken bodies, discarded bottles, dark shadows rather than the light.. not letting the breeze whisper soft promises to you. A door has no way to see out, and no way for others to see in as opposed to a window. Calmed by burning. The title, 'That I Am Burning'.. Fits. Fits very well. We're not just burning wood here, are we? We're burning life... Perhaps our own. Are we forgetting the past? Hmm, burning bridges even. Even in this place of happiness, you see the dark and broken things burning away. There's so many ways to read this, at least from my end that I'm having a blast. Great read, well written, I'll be taking a look at more!

[Kristina Moulaison]

Thanks so much for leaving your thoughst. Yes, I think you captured my intention very well here. Thank you for reading!