Saturday, August 1, 2015

Till all that remains is soul



I'm running through wooded trails on creaky knees. Cocooned in quiet, under umbrella of shade, in that middle space between light and dark. Each step radiates warning through my legs, axles grinding. But I can't stop. 

Because the sun has lit her match and I'm racing the ring of fire.

In the heart of the woods, I see. The flames dancing on tree trunks, across forest floor, through fingers of peeking branches. They point toward the fire and I turn to follow their gaze. To the edge of forest, where all is set ablaze, burning yet not consumed. Here in these woods, I, too, burn. From head to toe and underneath my skin, as if to say, I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive.

Reluctant, I exit the fire. 



The air outside the forest is a wool blanket on a summer night and a sheet of breeze flapping on the line; it is both. I gulp air, limp toward water, shed shoes as fast as the sun has smudged pink ash across lake shoulders. The water welcomes, soothes radiating skin, a cool hand brushing across my cheek. I plunge in head first and still I'm racing toward the edge of smoldering fire. Eyes squinting through curtain of water, enough light to see ahead, one breath to three strokes. 

In the middle, I flip over to my back and I'm staring now at pale blue mystery, baptized in bigness. 

My husband waits for me at the shore, holds my towel up and wraps around my shoulders. Dripping wet, I'm still burning, and I don't want to leave this place where flames dance on my skin, too, till all that remains is soul. 

We drive the lake perimeter home, all traces of fire dissipated, until I look back at forest growing distant. A naked moon glows, bold and sheer, in bare chested sky above the woods, strikes a new match and sets me ablaze.

Burn, she says, and carry on.  


credit










8 comments:

  1. beautiful words Amber. You paint with your words, only even more than a painting, which would be still life. You create movies with these words. I can see you, hear you, sense the forest sounds, feelings, the moon...and oh, the moon. What a way to end your evening. loved this.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. What a beautiful compliment, Carol... I love that you could see, hear and sense the things I described here. And yes, the moon! It was a glorious end to the evening, and hard to leave behind to go inside. Thank you. xo

      Delete
  2. Thank you...just what I needed to read today. This touched all of my senses!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I love that this touched all your senses and I'm grateful it filled you in some way, just what you needed. What an honor for my writing to be that. Thank you.

      Delete
  3. Oh wow, this was poetry.

    C.S. Lewis called moments like this, when we seem to touch eternity, JOY. And you have perfectly captured the joy of the soul soaring in God's beauty. Life has a way of *dampening* our hopes, of *quenching* our hearts, of *extinguishing* the light that lives inside of us. Might we all be more aware of moments when we touch the very heart of God, and burn...

    GOD BLESS!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Joy...touching eternity... yes. These are things which make us burn, particularly the divine beauty that ignites us when we are aware of it. Thank you for sharing this. It's in these moments we can feel most alive, isn't it?

      Delete
  4. What a beautiful piece of poetic writing. "All there is is soul." So profound and simple all at the same time. So glad to have found your lovely space today :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So grateful you found my space, which led me to yours. Thank you for these kind words.

      Delete