The Sacrificial Burn

“The Sacrificial Burn”, a very short story of a pyromaniac, who loved the Light too much. A writer’s journey. Perhaps it’s about life. Perhaps it’s about death. Perhaps it’s about the end of the world and wanting to take back time again. Perhaps it’s about ghosts. Perhaps it’s about becoming a ghost. Perhaps, as another writer friend of mine advises, it’s up to the reader to interpret for themselves relating the story to themselves. If it doesn’t, then the writing unlike ectoplasm doesn’t stick. Perhaps poetry is just the biggest mind f*** of all, like love, an addiction, that gives great pleasure and the most immense pain and one just has to walk through the walls cutting up their words each time they pass through, like some grand reincarnation. Some ghosts are eternal, remembered, some fade forever and are forgotten. The worst ghosts are best forgotten or jailed up in a Dybbuk box, not to be thrown into the deepest ocean, not to be buried, but to be burned. The sacrificial burn with a few incantations, a bit like poetry. A flaming pyre of poésies sent off in its boat with the ferryman across Styx. Of course, all this is done with Love biting its tale. (LadyLabyrinth/2023) “You arrive, now that I must leave I'll take one step out of the nice dream Into, something unknown, something unkind Somewhere so quiet, gone from your side Send me to lie here Forever unseen” “Why, why would you leave here Right when I need you No, I can't see you Out in the open Out in the darkness Here where I knew you Here in my heart And on somewhere unseen The distance is killing me The distance between I'm taking the water, taking on time Does it ever leave Does it ever leave Taking on the water, taking on time Does it ever sleep Does it sleep at all…” (excerpts, “The Distance, Emma Ruth Rundle)