Sharing with The Sunday Muse #217. Come be part of the conflagration. :)
Oh, they called the mob to celebrate
But only the fire heard
They called the mass to congregate
But only the dry grass bowed
A conflagration
Called to prayer
Hungry for light
Hungry for air
Oh, they called the mob celebrate
Wearing flames in their hair
They called the mass to congregate
Faceless in the burning air.
Greetings and salutations. I'm not sure what to say--we're not celebrating the 4th this year (not that I'm prepared to cede one holiday to the authoritarian idiots in charge of our state, but our grass is still dry from the heat and we have a dog terrified of fireworks...so we're celebrating by bunkering down and watching Howling 2 at the gleefully deranged suggestion of my sibling) and otherwise I've turned our dead corn plants into the basis for this year's Camp NaNo project...it's turning into a weird year, the kind of year where I'm reading more horror than normal and fictional dragons are turning toothy and serpentine and much hungrier. Camp NaNo is going to be...creepy. As summer camp, at times, should be. :)
Hope you have a good holiday & summer season!
-- Chrissa
Having lived in south Texas for 6 years a long while ago, I cannot even imagine what the atmosphere there must be in 2022. I'd be afraid to show my LGBTQ face, which I guess is what they want. I love your poem.
ReplyDeleteYour poem holds a heat and power like fire itself my friend! Love this! Yes I am with you on the hunkering down. 💙
ReplyDelete"they called the mob to celebrate
ReplyDeleteBut only the fire heard"
That opening is fabulous.
Fantastic wordsmithing Chrissa
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday
much💚love
Picture and words in perfect harmony. Well done.
ReplyDeleteSo strong Chrissa — excellent! 🙂
ReplyDelete"Oh, they called the mob to celebrate
ReplyDeleteBut only the fire heard
They called the mass to congregate
But only the dry grass bowed"
Excellent and powerful, Chrissa!
I have a cousin that lives in Austin, but claims
it's not really part of Texas!