The Ashes of a Poet

The Ashes of a Poet

As the poet goes up in flames,
the fire sways under the stars,
unfolding its tentacular arms
to hold tight the wooden box,
while, burning inside, embers
ignite the Soul’s cosmic eyes.

In the graveyard, kinfolk wait
with the hollow already dug.
Sad faces with twisted fingers
upturned to the shamed sky.
Dogs bristle with sorrow,
ready for the howl of death.

No insurance pay out here,
everything is lost in the fire.
“Rightly so!” the Soul screams
to the final beat of the heart,
angry at others lack of care
for the holy stardust within.

Sick with regret, in a wretched,
windowless, smoke-filled box,
the Soul hands over this life
as the heart of the poet fades.
Little flakes of fire stretch out,
hands become dazzling light.

The next verse will not begin,
not until we leave this scene
where, at the end of our lives,
at the end of our luminosity,
on the book-burning bonfire
we light and relight our pipes.

Circled by high walls of magic,
these realms are not for Man.
There are no roads built here,
nor will the earth be worked,
for these lands are kept back
wholly for the ashes of poets.

Those who burned for words,
where language was twisted
by each poet’s tortured hand.
Moved by a burning woman
within, the Goddess Calliope,
she who shines in the dark.

Everything that follows next
is already known to the Soul.
After the burning, darkness,
and ashes, the poet must rise
from the eternal ground of life,
reawaken and write again.

Copyright © Deborah Gregory 2016
Image Credit: Google Images

Dear Poets, May your Christmas be full of love, light and much laughter! Blessings always, Deborah.

10 thoughts on “The Ashes of a Poet

  1. I’m so glad that you are rising to write again. 🙂 Your words are always inspirational and your poetry motivational. Thank you for sharing your gift of words with us. I have always envied the poet’s ability to capture such bold imagery. Best of Wishes and a Happy New Year!–Lindsey V.

    1. Thank you so much Lindsey for your warm-hearted welcome back! The past nine months have been dark with many descents. Hopefully, a pregnant darkness from which light will emerge. It was wonderful to read the first chapter of ‘Lorelei’ your script left me wanting to read more. May all your wishes come true and a very Happy New Year to you! Blessings always, Deborah.

  2. My heart opens wide to take this in, Deborah. I’ve missed you. I’m glad to read your message from the land of smoking fire. I hope your suffering has been bearable. Your vision of Calliope gives me hope that She is here, too. How much more do we need to bury?

    My son and his wife left at 7 am to drive seven hours and join her parents for Christmas dinner. Our visit was nourishing, including lovely ritual together and time with Vic’s mother who is 101, still enjoys her presents and a glass of wine, but reminds us of the helpless place where we’re all headed. I long to be alone after busy days, but as soon as I’m quiet, fear grabs me. Like so many others, I’m buried in collective grief from this year and fear for the next. I’ll put on boots, turn my face up to gray skies, and feel my soles on the frozen snowy earth. It’s where I’m most likely to rekindle faith.

    1. Thank you so much Elaine for uncovering your heart and gifting me such warmth and wisdom. It was wonderful to read about your Christmas visits and take in your rich reflections. What a year it’s been, and today I wake to the sad news that the singer, George Michael died yesterday. His lyrics, ‘Last Christmas, I gave you my heart’ are playing over and over again in my own heart.

      I’ve missed you too, and love your poetic description of ‘the land of the smoking fire’ which I feel makes for an excellent future poem title! In her latest post Susan touches on this years’ tumultuousness for many and I deeply resonate. It has been such a difficult, challenging year in every way, and personally, the year has been accompanied by Saturn’s yearlong transit in Scorpio, which created total havoc for me.

      I felt called to write on Christmas Eve, and this poem just flew out of me. I agree with Jeanie, the world needs its poets, as I need poetry, as a tool to approach my Soul, to access my own, and the world’s collective unconscious. Yes, time to pull on our boots, thank you for the much needed reminder my dear friend.

      “You’ll never find peace of mind until you listen with your heart.” George Michael

    1. Thank you so much Jeanie for your wonderful, warm welcome back! During my many descents this year, I realised that as much as the world needs poets, I need poetry too. Have a wonderful Christmas. Blessings always, Deborah.

  3. You must descend into the flames to be able to rise again stronger…it is fabulous to see your inner goddess emerging from the ashes Deborah, to write once again. As always, your words have been woven from the Soul – a wonderful return to the way of the poet.

    1. Oh how wonderful it is to see you here again Sophia! After nearly nine months of writing in the background I thought I’d probably lost all of my blog followers by now. Thank you so much for your beautiful gift of words and inspiring encouragement. Yes, the descent was so necessary in order to rise again.

      Thankfully this year I have drawn great strength and gained much insight from the rich myth of Inanna and Ereshkigal. Greetings of the Season to you! Deborah.

  4. Deborah you evoke so well and true the fire we are going through. I’m not very familiar with Calliope – I will look her up- or down. I feel that the Goddess is arising, burned as she is, horribly wounded, but she knows that healing is on its way, at long last.

    It is so wonderful to see and hear your writing thank you so much. I’m so pleased you’ve emerged ❤️️

    1. Thank you so much Susan for your wonderful gift of words and kind-heartedness on this sacred Christmas Eve night! 2016 has indeed been such a tumultuous year for so many of us, no doubt of which, many are still reeling from. You describe well the dark descent yet encouraging rise of the Goddess, notwithstanding the terrible wounds inflicted through the burning, darkness and ashes rituals that have taken place this past year.

      Blessings always, Deborah.

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