Time takes hold of us like a draft
upward, drawing at the heats
in the belly, in the brain
You told me of setting your hand
into the print of a long-dead Indian
and for a moment, I knew that hand,
that print, that rock,
the sun producing powerful dreams
A word can do this
or, as tonight, the mirror of the fire
of my mind, burning as if it could go on
burning itself, burning down
feeding on everything
till there is nothing in life
that has not fed that fire
From Adrienne Rich, Burning oneself out
I found the poem consistent with my thoughts when watching the flames roar on our open fire whilst still feeling the chill from the freezing air drawn to the fire.
Odd that something so destructive to our world has kept human life fit and healthy over the 1000’s of years. From keeping warms to cooking and killing bacteria, yet it continues to produce CO2 at an alarming rate. I wonder what mirror would show the damge caused by fire to help stop the destruction of this blue planet of life.
Nice poem 🙂