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