Myself and The Elements

I. Smaller

When I am outside
I am smaller.
Hip resting against a tree
I am rawer.
When the water floods my feet
I am meaningfully insignificant
I am not sure if it is my breath
or the breeze
but my skin is cooled
by the sun
and cleansed
by the mud
and the river is my blood
only strengthened by the flood
And it is here
that I mean the least
and my heart
can make the most
of the curious and humbling
deathly and defying
bigness of the outside.
When I am outside
I am calmer
I am stronger
I am smaller.

 

II. Blue Fire

A fire
burns orange and bold,
brightness to blind,
with flames that stretch high
Reaching out
Shouting out
Spitting out heat
and singeing
any hair on a head it will turn.

A fire
burns low and blue.
A silent,
steady simmer
that turns no heads
seeks not to singe.

Said the orange fire to the blue,
“What fire are you
if you don’t burn and blaze?”

But the blue fire sang silently
For in itself it knew
the hottest of fire is blue.

 

III. July’s Air

July’s air
makes me sweat.
Air wetter than water
heavy as the suffocation
of a burlap bag.
I don’t walk outside.
I walk through outside
wondering
if the very thing I need to live
if the very thing to
kill me.
Asphyxiate and smother
me.

Lackluster air of July.

Can I part you
like the red sea?
Can I brush the pieces off?
There’s air
stuck to the back of my neck,
I think it’s in my hair
Am I outside?
Or is outside on me?

I long for January’s air.
A sharp,
spearmint inhalation,
A frosty injection,
January’s air
gives a tingle to your spine.

But it’s the dog days of summer.
And I’m stuck
in this
muggy
July
air.

 

IV. Tears of a Hurricane

I twist through existence
Slip between grasps
My soul is the color of glass,
pouring, running,
wet,
and like water,
though less of a sprinkle,
less singing in the rain,
and more the presence and destruction
of a torrent,
Making myself known
and felt
but never forever.
I flood with the force of God
but evaporate before the eyes of men
leaving a trace,
a tear,
a dampness in the soil
For the strength and fury of a hurricane
is never a victimless crime.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s