What did I do to make the fire so upset that it had to burn the forests, the homes? Chasing the smoke doesn’t put out the embers. The beautiful glow envelopes me. Is controlling the fire like killing the Jews? Emotional holocaust? Can’t put out the fire by chasing the smoke. When it no longer appears, I’m not gone. Am I just hiding or have I found my home? Stop pursuing and the smoke may kill me. Alas, we chase my smoke. We dance.
Inspired by a story about being a log in a burning fire and instead of others taking you out, them chasing the smoke instead. For me – chasing the smoke is maintaining the secrets & lies. Sweep the path. It’s all in my head. Nothing is actually real.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2019