Posts Tagged ‘Phoenix’

(for S.P., written in 1992)


Into the funeral pyre

went all he had created –

poems, books, ideas,

the imagery of his life.

None of it is real,

he cried,

except this smoke and ash!

His anguished voice

cried out into the hills

and echoed back,

a knife

to pierce his soul.

And so for many days

he ate the ash

and breathed the smoke

till nothing else remained

but one undying ember.

He sighed, and as he did

his breath fanned the glow

into a warm diamond light

that rose into the sky,

and there at last he saw it,

his own brilliance on the pages

as he took up his pen

and began to write again.


(c)  1992, 2012  Betty Hayes Albright

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: