Burning

Will it end in fire or ice? I think I know –
we’ll burn it all, pile it on,
until the smoke rolls thick and dark
from all the mass of tyres and bottles,
coal and living trees, and chicken feathers,
and old furniture, and money money money,
which burns brighter than anything,
flames leaping skywards. We’ll huddle,
backs to the dark, the great infinity
of emptiness, until the last flame flickers,
the last ember fades to ash.
And then we’ll freeze.

My second post for Brendan at Earthweal.  We are thinking about fire in the context of the climate crisis.

I lived in East Gippsland for a year, 25 yeras ago. It’s hard to see it burning. Thankfully, all our friends there are safe, but it’s been scary for us – terrifying for them.

Fire

We thought we’d tamed her, and that made us men,

that we had crammed her into some small domestic sphere

content to roast our meat and bake our bread,

to warm our feet and our bed.

 

She rose against us.

 

She rose and burned it all,

our homes, our crops, our makeshift sheds,

our livelihoods, our cars, our trucks

our power stations, pumping out smoke,

our sawmills, our shopping malls, our greedy bars,

our TV sets, our mobile phones, our soft hands,

our plump bellies, our plastic bottles,

our crisp Egyptian cotton sheets.

 

She bared her teeth and claws.

 

What fools we were. What fools.

 

For Brendan at Earthweal. 

Fire – quadrille

Fire the gun.

Silences must be shattered.
Races must begin.

Fire the gun.

You created this suspense
This glass sphere hanging
Isolating

Leaving you untouched
Untouching

You created this
Moment

That aches to end

You are holding the gun

Fire it.

Fire it now.

a quadrille for De at dVerse. Forty four words to fire you up and fire you out…

 

My son shows me how to light a fire – Quadrille for dVerse

There are things
I’ve never done,
and this is one –
so I watch you
crouching among
rounded stones
and the sound of
water lapping –
low sounds, I think –
hands flashing, then
cupping, nursing that
tiny spark, clear flame
licking, lapping,
in the winter air.

 

Another spark quadrille for dVerse. One of the great joys of motherhood for me is watching my children do things I have never done, seeing them grow beyond me. It is always so exciting.