Flames
With shelter
a blaze,
we close the door
to control its spread,
but as your halls,
timbers and trusses,
emit slivers
of flame,
do not lock
the latch,
leaving me
to only smell the smoke.
-Robert L. Jackson III
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There is something utterly sad and lonely about that last line.. nicely written!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
DeleteA devastating scene.
ReplyDeleteIt truly is. Thanks.
DeleteWow! And recently we were reminded again how an open door can spread the flames. But, no, "do not lock / the latch." The choice of smoke/flames/escape must be ours. Passion is like that, and I choose passion.
ReplyDeleteYou got it. Thanks!
DeleteWhat a sad and scary poem!
ReplyDeleteIt is for me.
DeleteBut thanks!
DeleteThanks. In this case it is unclear if the fire is good or bad.
ReplyDeleteAnother way to end it all....fire is especially hard, it was here, and then it wasn't. There is nothing so utterly sad is a pile of ashes. But still....a lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteThis is a powerful metaphor. From the entreaty to not lock the latch, and a couple ofcomments, it seems the possibility of change/loss/devastation might go either way? Beautifully executed metaphor, in any case.In my life, I suffered a real fire and lost everything. The next day, I began again, as humans must.
ReplyDeleteI like the ambiguity of this poem, which is conveyed succinctly, especially the ominous closing lines.
ReplyDeleteI see this as yearning, and even perhaps hopeful, rather than irrevocably negative. Though I suppose much depends on the response to that final plea.
ReplyDeleteHow sad your words and how telling the close.
ReplyDeleteHow sad when all that is left are memories that cling to us...
Anna :o]
Piercing lines, tragic images, and that sorrowful close! Your poem exudes pathos!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful ending ...
ReplyDelete"do not lock
the latch,
leaving me
to only smell the smoke"