Wildfire

Some days I describe myself as a wildfire. 

I am a flame moving with the wind clearing the path behind me.

As the oxygen feeds into my flame, I grow more powerful. 

When the wind picks up I unexpectedly shift directions, jumping over puddles and rivers and lakes. 

Behind me is scorched earth; a burnt path of where I once traveled.

When the wind stops, I settle into fierce tranquility. 

And when the rains come, I am contained. 

I’ve lived with this piece of myself, this wildfire within my heart, as a negative aspect of who I am. 

At times I wish I was more like water.

I wish I could take the shape of what was around me, and easily move through the cracks and crevices without leaving major disturbances.

But then I realize that water can be extremely leveling as well. 

And both fire and water, in their purest form, are breathtakingly beautiful. 

Because when the flames calm enough to notice the embers, the charcoal, and the heart of the fire dancing with purples and blues, you’re greeted with an undeniable trance. 

I search for a different point of view. I try to understand how fires can be used to carve out paths for new growth, hoping that I can switch my mindset to understand that my destruction isn’t as harrowing as I believed it to be. 

The wind shifts and my fire moves and I feel that I am burning everything around me, but perhaps I am just allowing what was there to be turned over into something new – new (sometimes painful) growth. Because without such a clearing the vibrant green and resilient sprouts wouldn’t be able to breathe into life again. 

So while I may resemble a wildfire, I return back to perspective and settle into the knowing that I am deeply in tune with nature and the natural order of life and that’s the furthest thing from tragic.



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