Tuesday, June 17, 2014

On the Matter of My Birthday

I had been trying to think of something meaningful and profound to say today, but then I realized that my birthday is no more (or less) significant than anyone else's.

A birthday is a time when you get to embrace the people who are there for you and remember those faces you miss. A birthday is when you hope the world shines a little brighter on you, even if it were raining.

Growing up, you look forward to presents and such. As an adult, the piles of gifts get smaller, or perhaps they turn into more expensive toys. Maybe you throw big lavish parties, maybe you have a quiet night alone sipping on a lush glass of Malbec while savoring a glittering skyline. Maybe it's a night without candles or cake, but it still remains that this day marks the moment you became part of the wide world.

There are smiles I truly wish I could see today, but can't (either by circumstance or the widening distance that comes with time.) There are laughs that have made my daily toils seem comical.

So, in lieu of brownies or crème brulee, this year I offer a thought: savor the people who make every breeze feel fresh as spring and summer. Indulge in joys that make others blush, and be brilliant in all that you do.

Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away