Setting Fire to the Origami Crane (the one floating on Muscongus Bay) at Sunset
Who is to say which comes first, the flaming crane
or the sunset’s burst just over the horizon
and under the clouds? There are causes and causations,
an illness named bad air and another attributed to wolf
bites, neither accurate. There is the paraffin to melt,
and the folded paper resting comfortably nearby, with
a small, unopened tin of shoe polish and the sound of
tears striking newsprint. You know the myth of the
Viking burial — the burning ship laden with treasure
and the deceased clothed in all his finery. But pyres
are lighted to make ash of bodies, to ease the soul’s
transition to the heavens. Think of how disturbing
it would be to come upon the charred lumps of your
loved one washed ashore. And other myths — various
versions of the afterlife created to bend wills and
foster hope where little exists — to which have you
departed? There are no returns in your future, no more
givings, and your ashes have dispersed among the clouds
and in the water. They’ve been consumed by earth and
sky, inhaled and swallowed, digested, coughed out but
never considered for what they were. So I’ve printed
your name a thousand times on this sheet, and will
fold and launch it, aflame, watching the letters that
comprise you, once again, rise and float, mingle
and interact, forming acquaintances, new words,
other names, partnerships, loves, ascending to the end.
* * *
This was written for the August 2015 Tupelo Press 30/30 Challenge. To read the poignant story behind the poem’s title (which I was unaware of), visit Jilanne Hoffman’s blog.
This is so well written with vivid images.
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Thank you. Much appreciated.
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There are never enough ways to honor and remember our dead. But this is a beautiful ceremony indeed. (K)
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Yes, I was quite taken with Jilanne’s description of their ceremony. Beautiful. Touching.
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My neighbor had one for her mother just at sunset down by the Hudson River. Somber and magical.
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Magical sounds about right.
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I always love a good story, and the unique ways our Creator connects us, when we don’t even know it. I certainly appreciate your gift with words. Well done.
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Especially when we don’t know it! Thank you for your kind words.
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Thank you for revisiting this poem, Robert. It hasn’t lost its power.
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Your story is a powerful one, Jilanne. Thanks again for sponsoring the poem, which never would have been written without your generosity.
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You got me hooked on Tupelo Press. I’ve had a subscription ever since you participated in 30/30. I LOVE getting those tissue-wrapped books in the mail!
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Same here!
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Once again, I am in awe of your artistry!
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You’re too kind, Kenneth. Thank you.
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This is beautiful–time folding memories.
I love the opening stanza.
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Thank you, Merril. Oh, the wonders of these challenges – you never know what gift will be handed to you. This title was a powerful gift.
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