There is No Dark

There is little of me left,
but you may take the remains
and toss them on the fire like old meat,
not fit for eating, not even
by the beasts that wander the night.

Leave me there, as you have before,
and add the flammable fuel
to assure my death.
Do it again
and do it well,

leave nothing to the carrion birds
or the beggars.
Only this, let my flames rise high
and bring light to the dark world around us
and be careful

to stay in the dark, in the shadows,
where my light does not fall. Stay safe
lest the sparks fall at your feet
and suddenly there is no night left
as I burn suddenly, brighter than the sun.

About this poem

The other day I was in McDonalds and an old man with two teeth asked me if I had some change to spare. As I often do, I bought him a meal instead and sat with him as he ate and talked.

I won’t pretend he made sense. But there was an odd poetic paranoia about him that was fascinating to listen to. His last words as I left were “There’s a fire in New Orleans, and the self righteous will burn brightest.”

And from that conversation…. this poem. Well worth the cost of a Quarter Pounder and coffee.

Tom