Consumption

Its been over a year since he pulled the giant stump from the river.

The muddy water preserved the old tree, much better than the air.

I thought the goal at first was preserving the wood for a re.imagined table.

If it dried too quickly it would crack, if it did not dry it would rot… choices.

I let it weather till the skin became like stone,

now to stop it before the wither rots its bones.

After floating in currents of ageless purgatory.. hiding its beauty in the mud.

It stands now embracing time and all her terror.

The weakness cauterized, no more afraid.

We did not stop time, we leaned into the discomfort till we rode it like the currents we used to know.

At the center of it all is a fire… it sears the rot and chokes the damp.

Consumed eventually, but not today.

-theDick

2 thoughts on “Consumption

  1. It must have been beautiful…I wish I’d time lapsed it. After chipping the rot and cauterizing this old stump all day and preparing a dish to fit in the top, I left it for the night. I shoveled heaps of red dirt into the dish shaped hole i’d carved for the fire pit to rest. I returned home and wrote the above thoughts titled “Consumption” the last stanza… consumed eventually, but not today!” Ha well not exactly, the porous wood sucked air from beneath the dirt and continued to burn/smoke all night until nothing remained by morning. NOTHING! It was absolutely consumed. I was devastated. My careful planning and treatments over the years ended up for naught. The medicine consumed the patient and in the end it cooked inside it’s shell till it fell to dust. The bastard always said he wanted to be cremated. Reminded me of a great saying. “I refuse to tiptoe through life only to arrive safely at death.”

  2. That the work was completly consumed by fire, is a loss, the loss of the days to see and remember the voyage. But the voyage down the river was made, it was a time passed but a time and voyage the burning cannot distract from. We will both be consumed when our voyage ends. We made the voyage, let the stumps burn. everything gets peace somehow.

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