Desert Camping

For Sarah

Fireside. fire-coloring-pages-30

One little flame burning out,

redundant in this present era.

A foot or two or warmth around

but generous enough to share it.

Not like what’s in my apartment:

lifeless, unafraid of dying,

fixed inside a stale compartment,

unconcerned with endless vying

for more fuel or guarantees

of balance between flames and trees.

 

Starlit.

A chorus of flames burning out,

laughing at our antsy effort

to suppress the nagging doubt

that says we are but water and dirt.

Though our flame flickers like fire,

fit to burn some earth, then die,

our lightbulbs aspire higher,

cutting through the curtain sky.

Laughing! ’cause we light the world up

only to dissolve back to dust.

 

Desert camping is a good thing;

if you stay up late enough and keep your quiet,

you might remember why it’s weird to be alive.

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One thought on “Desert Camping

  1. Lyssa, you capture how I feel so well. It’s weird to be alive, and it’s also weird that we die. Bruno Bettleheim said,
    “Life is an eccentric privilege.”

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