THE BURNING

Everything burns.  Cells of wood curl off in petals
oxidizing to smoke, ash, water.  Impermanence
is the law of the universe.
In a single sun cycle the iron pit
has eaten through from rain and sun and air.
I age, I do not see well, it takes me an hour to warm my joints
before the day begins,
I groan from the weight of the pit.
Beneath me the rocks crack and melt and shift,
a kind of burning if you measure
by clash of continents, by ranges burnt to old age
and laid down in graves,
becoming riffles of earth no higher than grassy mounds.
We were made for magic when we lived in hives
as creatures of earth.
Animal nature is not what’s killing the earth.

The animals burn like this:
the vole becomes the owl
the salmon becomes the bear
the flower becomes the bee.
We burn cleverness and manifest the death of the planet.
Except my dream body changes from within –
anger and fear become forgiveness and compassion,
right and wrong and need for justice
become acceptance of the struggle,
spacing out becomes
the swirling and sudden fragility of being.

The burning is happening
while I waste myself trying to be a singer of songs
more beautiful than I already am,
while I long to be on the river
and not on the circus road.  Even those who find joy
in the soft beauty of their own burning
will fold themselves into the fire
and let go of the last longing
as the stars fade into dawn.

  *    *    *
Tonight the last night of the year
the fire burns for us,
and who knows how long this will go on –
our longings and fears,
our hopes and regrets, our dreams and nightmares –
everything goes into the primordial flame
and everything – the starry sky, the wishes and regrets,
the beings of the fire – is held in arms of light.

12/31/19 Fire Ceremony