When I Thought My House Would Burn - Rebecca del Rio
Larry Robinson
Lrobpoet at sonic.net
Fri Nov 3 06:31:50 PDT 2017
When I Thought My House Would Burn
When I thought
It would burn, my house
Would certainly join the
Fire, become fuel
Like so many others
I imagined those papers
Settled in deep boxes
Slumbering in a storm
And I was grateful
I’d have no chore to undertake,
No decisions to make.
I imagined the roof, flat
And sieve-like allowing
Fire, like winter rains, to pour
In and mercifully
Choose what goes, what
If anything, stays.
I imagined books, photos,
Paintings surrounded and
Surrendered to the insatiable
Appetite of destruction, so like
My appetite for acquisition
That leaves little to imagine,
To fill with emptiness.
Two years ago, I sifted
Through years
Of greeting cards Rich
Could not part with until
He parted with his life
And left behind treasure
Of no meaning to others.
Returning home, I saw
My own small history,
Quietly cluttering corners
Swallowing the present.
Like fire, I swept through
Drawers and cupboards,
Clearing away the moments,
The mementos of times
Lived and asking remembrance.
When I thought my house
Had burned, was burning
As I climbed out of Paro’s
Narrow valley towards Tiger’s Nest
I carried, not birthday cards,
Not books or grandmother’s quilts and paintings,
But the rabbits and squirrels,
The pumas and skunks, deer
And trees, tucked in my heart.
I knew then what I loved.
I know now what I will
Carry when, like others
Before me, I flee this life
For the unknown, fires
Of living fading behind me.
- Rebecca del Rio
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