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I did not call down the fire.
by Aaron BlairI did not call down
the fire, never wanted it,
and yet it burst, suddenly,
a live thing, behind my eyes,
turning thought to ash,
and memory to shells of
houses, skeletons scorched
black, those dirty bones.
No tears to quench it,
no blood, just the swirling
dust, things only barely holding
on to the materialness of their
nature, their past made
indecipherable by the flames.
My mind knows the storm of
Dresden after the bombs rained,
yet can blame no enemies, no nothing
but itself, a wild animal turned
onto the scent of its own panic.
Who can name the casualities
when the war is on the inside?
Who can stop a fire that needs
no tinder, that kindles itself? 02/16/2004 Author's Note: Written for the first round of a poetry slam on another website. The topic was spontaneous combustion.
Posted on 02/16/2004
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Sarah Brookes on 02/16/04 at 11:50 PM Fantastic power behing this. The rhetorical slant at the end just twists it nicely. |
| Posted by Christina Gleason on 02/17/04 at 02:55 AM the beginning and end stanzas are really strong and frame the poem well-- definitely an interesting concept and a really good portrayal of it. |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 02/18/04 at 10:39 AM The last stanza speaks of the ongoing battle of the friction between the battling selves ignighting the fire. 'Who can stop a fire that needs no tinder, that kindles itself? A good question to ponder. Depiction of a state the observer feels helpless.
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