this is the season of fire and how can i explain that to you
this is the season of fire after the summer of water and i know now that my flame burns inside strong as ever singing my worth and i have words to spit out into this world, hot heavy and sour and i don’t have to hold in my passions or self, i don’t have to go with the flow, i don’t have to mold to my surroundings, i get to say this is me! this is now! this is what im going to do! and they have to listen – do you hear that part – they have to listen
because if not, i will burn this place down.
and i am a flame unseen perhaps but so were these wildfires before they were spotted, as they were already burning tree into ash and
i am not unspoken, not anymore.
i have words in my hands and my fingertips and i won’t let you put your melancholy into my skin once again, i cannot agree that life is all hard because isn’t it not about happy or sad or good or bad but rage and emotion and expression and madness and
i don’t know why i feel like the candles in my room speak to me at night but they whisper in conspiracy to me
reach reach reach
and they tell me
higher and onwards and grab what you want and be who you are and let the doubt burn burn away.
words etched in tree branches, dark soot in chimney grates, and theres a heat in myself that feels a bit like anger not quite too late
i was water running smoothly hiding deeply speaking softly and now i wonder
what if i set myself ablaze
if i let out my stories will this world burst into flames
or will i finally let all the pressure escape.
so, my old washing machine would electrocute you slightly, lightly, brightly if you put your hand on the wash button and so instead, we never did laundry
and yet when i tell this story to KC he tells me of sticking the knife into the toaster when he was a child and being shocked over and over again, not understanding why he felt what he felt, not knowing to stop
one time i sat on a dock on a lake in montana, watching lightning and storm clouds brood and cover half the sky, shocking the water, as thunder boomed and on the other half of the lake
if i covered my left eye i saw chaos and firestorm and if i covered my right eye, i saw a summertime lakefront paradise, sunshine and birdsong
do you see
the fire and water dance together
it isnt one or the other
but while the water absorbs your sorrows and holds your chaos and softens the darkness
the fire bursts from the sky and the ground, runs through sockets and toasters and up trees and out mountains and
art by Vykky Gamble