on the mornings when I smell fire

originally published by Apricity Magazine | 2011

Photo credit: KT Langley Photography

August, crescendo
of heat and fire, red heat roiling in the blood
red heat rolling through the plains
what has been building in the hearth of the heart
unknown by the builder

the harvest is heating
rich with hot blood boiling at the stem
surging from the earth
the pregnancy of toil unfolding from chrysalis of sweat and smoke

Venus is in anticipation, biding time in the dark
Leo is ablaze running scars across the nightskin
the fire is mine to hold and suddenly I am afraid 

Peta yuha mani win, a Lakota name given to me 3 years ago
an offering to my hearth:
Walks with fire woman
sometimes fire is a symbol for the ways we lead others
at the eclipse of certainty

Fall sharpens her red teeth at dawn
but first there is the morning when I smell fire
and hear the call to hold to the light of the flame fruits of the season’s labor

what will I reveal of myself? what have I forged
from the kindling beneath my flesh? sometimes fire is the will to be consumed
by the promise of change

will I lay shape to inspiring pyres, one awesome exhalation over the world
before the blue choke of winter
lulls me bloodlessly to stillness

or will I fall into a pillar of ash
with the spirit to rekindle
with the wisdom to offer sage
with hot breath to speak
my name, with hot blood and sweat to slake new flames, raw in the wind