In some ways, the poem I've included below doesn't feel very graceful to me. But it is trying its best to drop hints about longing and paradox. Two things I experience every day.
I don't remember its origins, but I do remember the yearning: to somehow be most deeply myself, to somehow serve the world most deeply as myself.
The paradox of yearning—to feel the exquisite beauty of desiring and not being able to have. In fact, that could be an alternate title for the poem. But perhaps that is too obvious.
Can this yearning ever be fully satisfied? Maybe. There is the infant who has just finished nursing, sweetly satiated and content in her mother's arms.
But never forever. That's part of being human. Living in the moment, yet able to yearn towards the future. The
paradox of here—another alternative title.
Then there is the paradox of being a writer—how can I possibly express in words what is beyond words? How can I play with language, so you and I can see something in a new light, yet stay within the bounds of normality enough that we can both get a flavor of what I am trying to say?
It's a challenge.
Dream of Fire
I dream of fire
as a hawk who spirals down
the rising path of grey.
I dream of fire
as a whale who from the deep groans to remember
the brilliance of light in the desert.
I dream of fire
as a wolf who sings in the haunted air
for one cold star.
I dream of fire
as a hungry child swarms
for the sweet unending flow of warm.
I dream of a clear fire of words
strolling through my hands and heart and feet.
Ancient.
Sacred.
Impossible.
Required.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Would a whale long for the desert? It could, if its ancestors walked on the solid earth. Would a hawk spiral down into flame? Perhaps not, yet a hawk will sometimes fly as curling smoke.
You decide.
May your dreams of fire bear fruit.
Next time I'll write about pursuing happiness.
Until then,
Dawn
Wolf howl, Wolf Conservation Center: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhQGo2IdA9s
Photo credits:
- u-solinari, reddit
- Protect Our Planet Now