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Water or Fire

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #201. Come to the poetry parade!


You can see it in the eyes -- the path is falling away.

Behind the walker, a world has been crushed back
into the primordial: water or fire.
And still, the camera remains on the motion
toward the viewer. 
As if you were solid ground.

You see them everywhere, now.
Walking away.

Turn into the subdivision, which lies quiet
under a sky glorious with sun and lilac clouds;
even here, someone is walking away.

We have watched them so long
there are images in our history books
and in our televised memory. 

the walker comes without expectation
without possession, without expression

The screen bleeds fire. 
You stanch it with laughter.
A fiery scab forms 
in the back of your mind. 
Solid ground, magma into islands.

Eventually, you take off your shoes.

I keep starting this over: my brain is in overdrive and it's been a little while since I was able to walk through the local park and just breathe. It's a good alternative to screaming, although neither accomplish very much. 

-- Chrissa


Comments

  1. I can feel the deep emotion this holds Chrissa. Sometimes the ground we stand on can feel like it is losing it's foundation indeed. I hope that regardless of the need to scream that you have some peace and the joy of your lovely furry friends around you to make your day pleasant.

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  2. May your feet find solid ground and your soul find peace! Blessings

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  3. Frightening to consider: islands of magma that morph into islands ... separating us, we lose touch with other humans, the end.

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  4. The chaos is difficult to shake at times. Nature does help but not always.

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  5. That is fantastic. This especially: "A fiery scab forms / in the back of your mind. / Solid ground, magma into islands." Damn that's good. And the poem itself forms up as it bleeds.

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  6. Love the reminder Chrissa to try back part of the old normal on our own. Been a few years
    now. It's being healthy to be out in the open again !

    Hank

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  7. The reader can feel a helplessness when reading these lines. The images of the refugees come to
    my mind...lost and homeless. Not sure it that is where you were going but, that is the message that connected in my brain.

    the walker comes without expectation
    without possession, without expression

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  8. This morning I am watching the walkers, trying to flee, being ruthlessly gunned down in the streets as they clutch their babies and dogs. Absolutely unbelievable for soldiers to behave this way.

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  9. So much power in your poem, Chrissa. A strong emotion flows as I read every line.

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  10. "The screen bleeds fire.
    You stanch it with laughter.
    A fiery scab forms
    in the back of your mind.
    Solid ground, magma into islands."

    Your writing is unique, and vivid. We are all watching, but its not enough.

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  11. This touched me deep.
    They walk, with nothing... not safe at all.

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