When I first wrote this poem I thought it would be the beginning of a longer piece, something with more of a redemptive arc. I tried and tried to find the rest of the poem, but nothing else fit.
Reading it now, I love that it stops where it does. That it doesnâ€™t try to soften the terror of watching one of lifeâ€™s autumns sweep in around you.
And now I can see that the redemptive arc is the poem itselfâ€”just the fact that it exists. That thereâ€™s a person called Me who survived the annihilation, who endured the long wait for spring, who can look back with deeper eyes and say, â€œI remember whenâ€¦â€
When That Fire
The destroying fire
is coming into
oranges and deep
preparing to consume
boneyards. I remember
when that fire
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