death
Burning, From the Inside Out, Again…lol Flame-y Baby
Morning Trip (96)–Incandescent
in·can·des·cent
/ˌinkənˈdesənt/
Adjective
Emitting light as a result of being heated.
(of an electric light) Containing a filament that glows white-hot when heated by a current passed through it.
Synonyms
glowing – white-hot – red-hot – flaming
IV
The dove descending breaks the air
With flame of incandescent terror
Of which the tongues declare
The one discharge from sin and error.
The only hope, or else despair
Lies in the choice of pyre of pyre—
To be redeemed from fire by fire.
Who then devised the torment? Love.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire.
Fear and Seeing Aura…
It Wasn’t Death She Saw
But life:
skin dancing with flesh
like silk curtains that swirl in the wind
above her mother’s window
up up now puff! and in again
Or breath – is the wind breathing?
She’d been playing in the grass when it happened:
the snake flung
from the mower’s blade, rainbows
of ribbons in the air
rainbows rainbows everywhere, catch a ribbon for your hair
She wrapped the pretty pieces in willow leaves and grass.
When she told her mother what she’d seen –
the way life
leapt out of the snake
just like a ballerina –
her mother beat her,
scrubbed her tongue with salt
but Mama, it was beautiful, like fireflies at night
She learned to hold her body
very still.
– Kirstin Hotelling Zona
Goodbye Grandma
Goodbye Grandma.
I Know and I Know and I Know, Again
Morning Trip (82)
“Desire animates the world. It is present in the baby crying for milk, the girl struggling to solve a math problem, the woman running to meet her lover and later deciding to have children, and the old woman, hunched over her walker, moving down the hall of the nursing home at a glacial pace to pick up her mail. Banish desire from the world, and you get a world of frozen beings who have no reason to live and no reason to die.”
WILLIAM BRAXTON IRVINE, On Desire
“We are the mediocre,
we are the half givers,
we are the half lovers,
we are the savourless salt.
Break the hard crust
of complacency.
Quicken in us
the sharp grace of desire.”
CARYLL HOUSELANDER, attributed, Soul Weavings
Dancing for Sky
My friend and teacher. Has passed away. I walk alongside you always.
Elisa's Spot 