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The Burning" by Georgina

Four Seasons past since I first looked you square in the eye
before you were always behind my back pressing up
against my rib cage squeezing the life out of me

leaving me gasping for air You Bastard-
Today Sunday - Mass Day
when quietness descends upon MY home
I decide there and then
to burn you alive in my grate on my turf-

Thirty four images I have made of your evil face
one for each year of our knowing-
Then on my knees I strike the match and see you rise up in flames
before me
again and again and again and again

and patiently I watch each page burn and sear
the black cloth that you lived within all my little and big life-
In the hot glow of the burning I see the curling up of
your fat and broken nose and beady eyes
staring out at me-

You are below me now
and lifeless
and the white dog collar you hid behind
now barks nothing but hot and parched and winded air-
The once booming loud and terrifying voice
which belted out the wrath of hell
is now lost forever in the hissing
and the crackling of the flaming paper-

When my work is done
from somewhere deep within
I hear the faintest whisper of my own voice
-Emerging Rising to chanting pitch and in my mind

I am dancing on your grave
where I can hear my heart beating
and thumping to the loudest drum-
I feel free of you now
for the first time
-Ever-

When the ash cools I bend down
and ever so gently sweep
your charred remains
up and out
from my hearth

carefully catching all the dust
leaving no trace of your cremation behind-
And opening my front door
I hesitate for an instant
inhaling the fresh spring air into my lungs
and breathe an Almighty breath-

Casting you out
I find myself sprinkling
your dust
over my gardens growing
and handing you back to the earth
knowing I have gone the full circle
in the burning

 
 

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