"im reading bout
the way that things burn
on paper and in textbooks
-
im readin bout
the way things will burn
in some time or in no time"
-
sitting in my lover's lap
on a chair on a porch of a house in new orleans
watching a cigarette turn to ash
i am thinking about self-immolation
about the way that things burn
-
i feel louisiana sunlight and louisiana tears kiss each other on my cheek
i take a sip of whats left - a dedication
i sit with the taste
i think about whats left - a dedication
plenty to fight for
-
and it hurts
aaron bushnell
the way that things burn
googling, again, the count
of how many thousands of palestinians have been murdered in the past 5 months
in cold blood, in white hot greed
white phosphorous
(over 30,000 known dead, over 70,000 injured)
to the bone
(on fire, in uniform)
the way that things burn
-
—
-
now, sitting in a windowseat
on a flixbus on a familiar bridge on a tuesday afternoon
wheels rolling westbound to my hometown
golden hour flickering on swamp water,
refinery smoke kissing refinery fire
the way that things burn
-
we pass a smoldering field, branches still simmering
a quick clearing between cypress trees
and i blink and its gone,
surreal,
and there are tears again in my eyes
and i am so, so sorry for
the way that things burn
-
—
-
now, sun buried behind grey,
i have goosebumps on my arms
i am checking the esims apps, on my phone, on the bus,
i am looking for movement
i am looking for movement
i am listening to babehoven in my headphones:
"im thinkin bout
the way that we learn
when everything is hopeless"
-
—
-
i am listening to npr when i run into danny,
mid-city bike-ride serendipity
i pull my car to the curb, he’s on his way to work
i turn down my radio, and step out of the sound
of headlines of israeli bombs, of the flour massacre,
they targeted aid trucks in northern gaza
it is not lost on me
that this is something that i can step out of
-
he came to see the half-charred house
it happened last night
the singe grants us a quick game of catch-up,
and a good look at the aftermath of
the way that things burn
-
—
-
it is quickly turning to spring here
the first blooms on impatient branches
and so we queue up to enter the third season of the most well-documented genocide of most of our lifetime
and hope is under it all, and above it all,
because it has to be
a throughline
because it has to be
-
it is whats left after the burning,
and is what came before
and is what burns through, stronger and brighter than it all
-
and so we hope
as a promise
as an ember
(over 30,000 palestinians known dead, over 70,000 injured)
and it hurts
(aaron bushnell, on fire, in uniform)
and im sorry
and i hope
as a ritual
as a need
as love
and i think about
the way that things burn
-
—
-
we carry the weight of the promise of tomorrow because it is our duty
because the comforts we have been afforded come directly from the suffering of our neighbors
because the struggle is one that is shared,
because so is the free future that the struggle begets
-
and i am thinking about the resonant ring of recent words,
on the last night of these past six weeks of touring,
in baltimore,
in a combination bookstore / record store / venue called normal's,
when suzanne doogan read, in the last poem of her opening set, the line:
-
"all who are born in love are destined to be free"
-
and how i wept at the taste
of the breathtaking truth of it
how i can feel it in my heart’s hands
how i can feel the way that it burns
Thank you for sharing this. This tragedy is so physically removed from most of us, and yet still soo present in our psyches. Thanks for bringing it up clearly and directly.
🎃🦩💥