I awoke from a tossed up dream and made my way in the dark to the room where the warm embers lingered. Surprisingly, the last flame from the evening before had held on, throwing off leftover heat as the grate filled with its ashes. Like it was waiting for me to find it again. It was a lonely sight, a lonely glow with little strength to hold onto. For a while, I let it die down and was going to let it simply settle into cooling .... I didn't think I should start it up again at this late hour. But, something inside me felt the need to rekindle the flame.... to bring it back to life again. I don't know why. I guess I needed its company. I needed reassurance.
Layered with dry sticks crisscrossed on top of the embers, the fire took no time to re-ignite. I heard it at first.... the puff of it catching its breath, of it choosing to transform from dying to rebirth. Flames, young and tiny at first, leapt between the sticks and wrapped around memories of long ago hearth blazes. With an ancient yearning, it stretched up as I fed it larger limbs and listened to it draw more strength into itself.
I sat warmly close to the rekindled flame and listened carefully. I could hear the last vestiges of life in the timber... lickwhistling haunts from the tenderdrops of moisture, hollow winds pulling up into the flue, tinkling sparks crackling a melody only a fire can speak. I watched the bark curl up with taut precision, arcing like stretched toes out and away from protective limbs as the wood noisily snapped in defiance. As the relit fire reached a new crescendo, its heat forced me to step away to observe it from a safer distance. I realized how delicately dangerous it is to rekindle a flame. I realized too just how soothing it is to sit close and bask in its affirming melody.
I know this song. I know its nostalgic voice as it echos the same thoughts simmering inside my own staring mood. As I finish writing this piece, there are two small flames left billowing...... one is flickering from the last limb and the other is dancing in its reflection..... Let me feed it again.
I don't want it to die out. I don't want to be left holding ashes of what may have been ..... Ever.
I don't want it to die out. I don't want to be left holding ashes of what may have been ..... Ever.
4 comments:
Beautifully written.
Thank you Judy. Did the love analogy shine through it?
Love analogy came through loud and clear. I loved this piece! I especially like the reference to having to retreat to a safe distance when the flame gets too hot and/or threatening. It was a pleasure to read and reflect upon.
Murf...thanks! It came to me quickly as I sat by the fire in the early morning so I didn't know if the analogy worked or not because I wrote it straight from my thoughts without hesitation. ..... for some reason this particular fire held a lot of memories in it.
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