Phase 2: The Eyes See New
I move my
magical thinking outside
The container
of my body, into
The open air
for all to witness
This collection
of treasures. Ideas
Can become
so powerful they
Solidify like
water into ice, transform
Their intangible
selves into objects.
So too does
the idea of us sleeping
Outside, our
bodies content with
our sleeping
bags, the sky as our tent.
So too does
the idea of setting camp,
The methods
of pitching and staking,
The wrangling
of poles and herding
Of waterproof
canvas. So too does
The idea of
building a fire with
Newspaper,
kindling and branches,
Creating the
orange throated roar.
So too does
the idea of placing
Our chairs,
popping the tab
Of a beer
and warming
Our feet close
to the fire pit.
So too does
the idea of
Our conversations
over
Campfire,
how our voices
Wonder and weave
through
The night as
if our language
Grew legs
and moved through
The dark. So
too does the idea
Of being
outside, so too does
The idea of
being; the fear
Lifting as
if the fire could burn
the virus, turn
it to coal and ash;
we could use
the light of the fire
to guide us
to the next parts
of our collective
turmoil.
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