Birth by Fire
Two cars quietly come to rest by the roadside.
Headlights switch off before the dusk.
The November grass is lush and green.
California is reborn as the leaves fall.
The grass is damp. Doors open.
Hands hide in coat pockets.
I sleep in my down bag, in the trunk,
as Father MacNeil opens my door.
I sleep deeply as my Bill and Tom move me to the stretcher
and walk me down to camp.
Father Mac carries down a box of firewood, but
most of our wood is waiting for us at camp.
Before long we have a long, crackling trench fire,
Father Mac chants a song; Bill and Tom lift the stretcher
and lay it to rest in the flames.
I awaken amidst the intense heat and light.
As my sleeping self burns away, I awaken as fire;
Suddenly I am the fire, burning the sleep away.
The friends keep watch throughout the night.
I offer warmth and good light for conversation.
When dawn light arrives, it is time to offer
the ash, embers, and what remains
sleeping to the soil,
to say goodbye.
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