On Ashes

Burnt Offering

Ashes: What is left over after the flame goes out.
The fire.
The fire of anger.  The fire of lust.  The fire of enthusiasm.
Wholeness in pieces.
My wholeness.
My completeness.
How do I function in pieces?
Broken apart.
My heart over here; my hand over there.
Even if they retained their wholeness.
Their completeness.
I am broken apart.
Vulnerable to the the threatening wind.
Or I could soak into the ground.
The earth could fold me into itself.
Make what was once me part of something else.
Something new.
Become whole again as something other than what I had been before.
Something other than me.

No identity.
No Julia.
I can be looked down upon now.
Without ability to make any expression.
Any impression.
Other than as ashes.

A time of assuming the identity of ashes.
Of being broken apart.
Not quite nothing.
But getting there.
Threatening to not be.

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This