Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Hymn to a Dying Sun

O fiery father:
Take your burning brand
From off my back.

No longer can I see the sky,
No longer feel the Earth--
The two old gods who
Hold me here,
These elements and familiars,
Who are scorched
And turning into ash,
Beneath the torch of your touch--

Like me: bent beneath
Your burden, your mass,
Like me bent lower
By your light.

For fire brings no forgiveness:
The forests are healed
By the scorched Earth's sadness
And the sky's sorrowful tears.
Never by you, your fury,
Your old man's clinging force
Grasping with blazing fingers
Of bitter, lonely possessiveness.

O fiery father:
Your blood has slowed
But still your face is blinding.

Like me: blind and blazing,
Like a broken sunflower
Bent to the ground
But always with my face to yours--
Even while I wither,
Even while my seeds dry up--
And always anxious for the dusk
That will not have a dawn.

So fire has no forgiveness:
But time knows not of mercy,
And light years have an end
Like embers dying, dark and cold.