You were both,
A volcano spewing pain
equal parts grief and rage.
Feet planted firm on burning coals,
You pursed, then parted red lips
To tell a daughter's story,
Pausing now and then to breathe
Because fire needs air.
Beyond the chapel windows,
Fields bleached beige by winter sun--
Your father's landscape--
Flared red,
Your words spark and kindling,
Lava splash turning stubble to flame.
Oh, we feared for you
Balanced on the volcano's fiery rim,
Light and shadow mottling your face.
But when you leaned forward,
Bent even closer to the seething grief,
We feared for ourselves.
And so you comforted us and yourself,Promised to keep your door open to us all
So that you might know
The sparks and shards of him
Contained in each of us.
And as you reached out
From flames
Purifying and consuming,
We felt you
Rising from the ashes
Even as you blazed.
________
Photoshopped screen shot of a portion of a Scott Ketcham "Life Study": https://www.scottketcham.com/post/180670240122/805-life-study-2018-34-x-26-oil-on-denril
No comments:
Post a Comment