tmbt: standing inside the fire
The year burns away by the second. And with it, I beseech, my doubts, my hesitations, my turning from the light. Only days since the sun pulled up out of its long descent away from us and I am clutching for more. Only a taste of warmth on my lips, left frozen in the recesses of my memory if not for the potent, unexpected, unfathomable reminder, and I am twisted with longing for a drenching of sun – sun-drenched body, sun-drenched mind, sun-drenched heart.
And with every second that passes, I know it is near, the full consumption of waiting, the song springing forth from the horizon as the solar fires pull themselves towards me. Why not relax into the exhale and wait out the anticipation in peace, in undulating grace, in the glory of the lost found, the found reflecting, the reflection glorious for its passionate display of life, pure life thumping, grinding, and mashing itself into itself.
Sometimes the most beautiful thing is the most dangerous to behold. Sometimes the glory and grace of the sunrise can blind us to the comings and goings. Sometimes we are lost to the fire for it is simply too hot to stand in, the wound-be standing replaced by running feet, my running feet. How many times have I run from so much less? How many years have come and gone in the wake of the running? And how many tomorrows would be lost to the burning if my body could not contain it?
I said I would do anything. And I will. I will stand here, quaking, shaking, consumed and seething. I will will my eyes to adjust to see in and around the rising flame from the east and stand my heart on its proper axis to feel it all. I will let my fingers twitch towards the off button and yet harden my skin around their reach. I will keep to the burning. I will keep to the burning and pray the winds stirred by the spreading of wings around me send just enough breeze my way to keep my mind and heart intact. Whole. I stand wholly so that I will arrive wholly. The most beautiful thing these years present to me, a glory to behold, is that which can only be seen right here: standing inside the fire.
Image property of Fire Arts Collective.