phoenix fire
the devil winds have started again, stealing breath from my mouth and lungs. smoke and fire smells alternate on the shifting air. I’m burning again.
I wait until the house is quiet to pull the ladder out and climb onto the roof. I sit as high as I can to get a look at the mountains burning.
sun lit the smoke from behind this morning as it rose up from the fire rimmed eastern hills. the dawn normally pink, muddied brown and dangerous from soot.
an ember on a breeze lit the mountains to the west. now if I sit just so i can see towers of smoke in my peripheral vision. great thunderheads from hell.
a cinder lights on my head and quickly engulfs me in autumn fire. I dance as flames turn my clothes to ash and lick at my breasts and back. it scours me pure.
it’s the end of a cycle and a chance to remake elements of life into something different. something made stronger by fire. painful art of deconstruction contemplated atop my roof this monday morning.
October 14th, 2008 at 8:14 am
Beautiful writing……… only specially chosen people get to experience the full regrowth of self during the Fall. Unlike growth in the Spring, the bursting forth of self is, in this season of Fall, purified by fire, cured by the winds to be carried inward to that nesting place where all is stored and known.