Ash

Ash

I am lost,

ash-clothed,

among the crags and rookeries

of my shattered mind.

When the volcano blew again

it was my mind that left vulnerable;

the unrelieved lava splicing the landscape

into valleys and gullies,

no longer touching each other,,

words onto themselves like primordial soups.

incessantly burning, steaming.

Bridges that were persistent,

left charred ash at the base of burled cliffs

and I am at the base with them among burning words,

picking my way through molten rock.

and cauterized thoughts;

an eternal child, raising my ashen face to the sky.

How do survivors continue ad rem?

Blanked time spliced time -

how do I circumnavigate?

How do I excogitate back to the level ground?

At one time, the tectonic plates were one.

At one time, the words and thoughts were one.

At one time, I was one.

But I live under a volcano

and learned under its ash layers -

and therein lies the survival

I learned by living in the primeval stew

Crags and rookeries can be climbed.

Plateaus and  pueblos can be circumnavigated

But you must be willing to delve through the gullies first to reach them.

And words, glowing words, may burn the hands

but carried up to the surface

they build my bridges out of rock.

And, oh, all the evolutionary opportunities!

What grows from the ash!

Ariel

February 22 2012