FIRE
Word Count: 191
Sometimes it is more than I think I can handle and I need to turn down the flames. The dogs who need homes, the children with flies flickering their eyelids, the washed away homes that flow downriver like fish bobbers spinning and riding the waves, the wildfires that chew up family albums and leave a thick cinder plaque behind. Each of them eats at me and I wonder how there could possibly be any God.
Inside I am simmering.
The morning commute is man-made. Smoke spouting bullets that fly down the highways. Faces set to grim and grimace. Hot coffee set in the console, sipped and spit out in steamy epithets as drivers play deadly tag. Windows rolled up or the road would be one long scream.
The whole surface bubbles, roiling and snapping.
The fire rages from within. Passion or anger, one and the same. The core of the earth is our soul. Hands reach out of Hell to scrape at our hearts and we answer. Understanding, not love, is the water. Patience the divining rod.
My lungs fill, exhale to the slow count of fifteen. I drive on.
Powerfully stated – began to feel angry at some obscure entity while reading and re-reading – then remembered that mine is the hand from hell.
That’s pretty much how your image made me feel, but I feel it comes from within us. Wrote myself a note: “Look into Buddhism”
I swear we are twin sons of the same coin. Are we having the same day? Beautifully done.
Yes! I read yours earlier and wondered if we were sending mental signals across the river. Susan, I think that despite our political differences, we are very much alike in what we believe about society and our place in it. We just vary greatly on our choices of priorities and solutions.
Yes. I’ll have to work on you! 😉