Ashes Linger

Ashes fall. Sparks rise upwards

I walk here where I have always walked. The place is always the same. It always changes

Dry pavement under my feet; rain slicked with street light calligraphy captured within; carpeted with brown leaves; hemmed by dirty snow

The place is always the same as it changes

I am changed as I remain the same

I walk forward into the wind; it pushes against me as I move into it. It pushes me back as I move forward

Time rushes towards me. I move into it. It pushes me back

I duck my head, hook my thumbs into the pockets of my jeans. I don't close my eyes, I want to feel the wind against my face, cold and sharp and filled with the scents of rain and snow and ash

Ashes fall

Wind skirls the ash around my legs. I walk through it. As I walk through the ash it is light and alive and it moves around me it swirls around me it touches me it embraces me it brushes against my face

As I move on I leave the ash behind. It settles behind me. Quiet. Still. With time it will show no evidence of my passing

Time rushes towards me, I feel it against me, it touches my face. It lays silent behind me

I hunch my shoulders and brush the hair out of my face

Sparks rise upward

Bright and sharp and twisting I smell the fire and the heat but it does not touch me, I do not feel it. It surrounds me. Swirls around me. Barbs of lambent light that etches shadows across my face.

I do not close my eyes

I pull my collar up around my throat. I walk on

This place is changing, it will always be here. Time pushes against me, it flows around me, it pushes past me

Behind me it is still and quiet with ash

I wait for the rain to come. To wash away the ash, sparks falling and dying in the rain.

I pull up my hood and turn my head slightly. Cold rain stings my face. The rain smells of ash

I walk on.

This place is always the same as it changes