A Swainson's Hawk dives
to scour singed ground,
finding a squirrel left without
the waving brown to blend into.
Another takes a grasshopper
rendered unable to escape
by its blackened wings.
I am forced to follow my mother,
even though the smell of sulfur
pulls my stomach upward into
my throat and left-over air clogs
my lungs, making each step
more difficult to bear.
But under my feet the fire has given
phosphorus for orthophosphates;
black ash has settled. A rattlesnake
crawls over white rock; charred leaves
fall softly from a sky I can no longer see.
Behind me, rich mineral soil. Life will follow
if I can walk slowly, manage the burn,
be the time, make sure the Quaking
Aspen is left alone and permitted to grow.
And then a flag of kaleidoscopic wildflowers
will unfurl on the side of a hill
behind my daughter.
~Originally published in Literary Mama.
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This poem was originally published in Literary Mama.
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Great story, well told in poetic form. There are many layers of meaning beneath the surface of your graphic details. I like it very much.
I love prose poetry, the ability lies in a natural voice while imparting images and poeticism, tough task, and you even make a word like 'orthophosphates' sound as such. Enjoyed very much.
Very nice work, Lou. Very mature, deep images. As you know, one way of preparing the soil for planting is to burn off everything. Like the sense of continuity, mother to daughter.
"Life will follow
if I can walk slowly, manage the burn,
be the time,"
Wise words. Execllent advice for souls of all ages.
Wonderful form & voice in the poem, Lou.
Vivid moments here:
"A rattlesnake
crawls over white rock; charred leaves
fall softly from a sky I can no longer see.
Behind me, rich mineral soil. Life will follow
if I can walk slowly, manage the burn,
be the time, make sure the Quaking
Aspen is left alone and permitted to grow."
Strong work.
Full of some great images.
Thank you, everyone.
Yes, Matt, you're right of course.
Wonderful. Reading the first two stanzas is like watching the opening of a movie.
Pungent and poignant, very striking.
Thank you, Jane and Martha.
Lovely. What goes around comes around transformed, death-and-birth.
Lou, this is beautiful. Vividly described with richness of meaning.
Thank you Stephanie and J.B., I very much appreciate it.
Wonderful writing, stunning mood and images. I wish I were a Quaking Aspen in your poem.
Agree with Beate. This is exquisite. *