Poetry of the Week: Ending 2016 in Fire

Few of us have been fond of 2016. Mentioning the year itself has taken on a cursed quality in the media, in private conversations. Even foes on vehement sides of political divides can share sympathy about the past twelve months.

For myself, it's been a personally difficult year. I've attended two funerals, lost the last of my grandparents, said goodbye to a beloved pet of 14 years, dealt with various more complicated and personal issues, and I'm still not fully equipped to talk about how this last election has shaken me. Suffice to say that I came out under an administration that progressed human rights and made it feel like we were moving forward as a world and a community, and now people I know are getting targeted and harassed, and my existence is once again a matter of debate and public opinion.

But for the lowest of lows, there were also highs. I attended two funerals, but also two weddings. I spent time with friends I haven't seen in years, and strengthened friendships both new and old. There are people who rely on me, and people who will be there to support me when I need it. I don't mean to hide how terrible this year has been overall, but despite all of it, if I look back to December 29th, 2015, I felt lost and alone in ways that I don't any more. The world may not be in a better place now than it was then, but tired and bruised though I am, I'm better off.

So I'll accept the pains and trials and lessons of this year, and consign the rest to the fire. Fires of cleansing, of anger, of passion. Fires of trial. Fires of death and rebirth. Maybe 2017 won't be any better than 2016, but life and growth continue regardless, sometimes the stronger for having survived.


Fire and Ice - Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire, 
Some say in ice. 
From what I’ve tasted of desire 
I hold with those who favor fire. 
But if it had to perish twice, 
I think I know enough of hate 
To say that for destruction ice 
Is also great 
And would suffice.


Fire - Dorothea Mackellar
This life that we call our own
Is neither strong nor free;
A flame in the wind of death,
It trembles ceaselessly.

And this all we can do
To use our little light
Before, in the piercing wind,
It flickers into night:

To yield the heat of the flame,
To grudge not, but to give
Whatever we have of strength,
That one more flame may live.


You cannot put a fire out - Emily Dickinson
You cannot put a fire out;
  A thing that can ignite
Can go, itself, without a fan
  Upon the slowest night.

You cannot fold a flood       
  And put it in a drawer,—
Because the winds would find it out,
  And tell your cedar floor.


To Some I Have Talked With By The Fire - William Butler Yeats
While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes,
My heart would brim with dreams about the times
When we bent down above the fading coals
And talked of the dark folk who live in souls
Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees;
And of the wayward twilight companies
Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content,
Because their blossoming dreams have never bent
Under the fruit of evil and of good:
And of the embattled flaming multitude
Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame,
And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name,
And with the clashing of their sword-blades make
A rapturous music, till the morning break
And the white hush end all but the loud beat
Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.


Keep your lanterns burning and your hearths warm. I hope your winter is filled with folks who love you, and that you have a happy new year.