The Fire

(dedicated to Viktor)


There is magic in the Fire,
from the dawning to the falling,
from the snowline to the maize time,
there is magic in the Fire.

In the way the smoke twists round,
in the way the wax runs with the ground,
there is magic in the Fire,
and the earth is made aflame.

I saw something there,
not with my sight my eyes
but with my feet my heart
and the joins between each part.

I was drunk on smoke
and heat and vapour,
the blood of trees
and the fat of pigs
and the Days, the Day,
the Days.

The days of my ancestors;
When they first walked out from Africa
When they first befriended Dog,
and laughed as Bird,
and danced as Snake,
constructed knives,
and nets,
and planted seeds,
and warred,
and cried,
and tried to make things better,
then tried to makes things better.

There is magic in the Fire
and the Days, the Day,
the Days.