by Christine Barkley
I will narrate this now as
something more sanguine, and less bloodied;
no longer framing loss as a taking-by-force, but as
my own nature
taking its course.
I will rebuild
and forgo fire-proofing, disaster insurance;
ignore tsunami sirens and earthquake warnings;
accept that this body itself is a floodplain,
a fault line. A forest overgrown and overdue for flame.
When I am burned to the ground,
I will praise these cells for their creative
self-destruction.
When I overflow my own banks, I will
reclaim this body as it resurges,
resurfaces.
A biological legacy.
A becoming.
Somehow a river is reversing, returning from the sea;
I return to myself.
When I am ruined again, it will be volcanic.
A once-flowering field laid waste –
and more fertile for it.
(first published in Door is a Jar Magazine, Fall 2022)
Christine Barkley 