Breath of Ashes
Fire and the smell of the fire scorched scent of things ceasing to be

We gathered in the paling field
Spring
maybe later
A circle of gentle faces
Friends and the eyes of friends
peering my way
cautiously
I did not look up
.
The brush and sticks
gleanings of the surrounding field
had been gathered
and pressed into
a tangled center
and set aflame
.
There was a pack of his cigarettes
a bottle of wine
three worn boxes
and a gentle hand
upon my back
.
I light a stale awful cigarette
the smoke burning acrid in my throat
I drink the wine
straight from the bottle
though they gave me a glass
There's enough things broken already
.
I drag a box close
and begin with the mundane
Bank statements
failed scripts
faded receipts
and newspaper clippings
for events once deemed important
and now all curling black
in the flames
.
The rest will be harder
.
Faces still quietly upon me
and I finish the cigarette
the filter now flaring in the coals
.
The years of notebooks are next
.
Pages thick with plans and ideas
For scripts, vacations, schools for the kids
and a sketch of their cats
.
It takes awhile for them to catch
.
Covers peeling away finally
then torn page by page away
in jagged orange dissolvings
and now committed to memory
by the hot wind
.
Fire and the smell of the fire
scorched scent of things ceasing to be
.
My parents are not here today
They remained at home
scuttled on couches
bent in sorrow
their cats in cat circuits
roam gently about their feet
.
Two boxes now emptied
and twisting in the flames
their flaps reaching skyward
and as if to wave their last
and crumple inwards
.
On the flickering ground
is left a small pamphlet
First aid
on how to save
someone from choking
and I hurl it angry
into the flames
for your irony
is not wanted tonight
.
One box left
.
It's small and
has a delivery sticker on it
with his address
.
Inside is a paper wall hanging
with bright cartoon faces
It is measured out in feet and colors
in inches and years
and children's names
Chloe is 2'2” and now she is 2'3”
Lyle is 4'5” now he is 4'6”
Chloe is 10 and now Lyle is 13
.
And then the numbers stop
.
Suicide and the sound of suicide
That lonely thing of quiet
and it was
baby brother
Quiet
.
Mom found you
and then there was nothing quiet
nothing quiet for a long time
and then it was
.
The measured paper
is softly in my hands
and then it's not in my hands
It wasn't in the fire
and then it was
and then it wasn't anymore
and the wine was now gone
.
The sparks swirl and skitter away
kicking at the dry ground
and vanish in the air
.
And that was the last of everything
that mattered for awhile
.
The ashes exhale
in a dull pulsing glow
Ashes and the breath of ashes
light dark
light
dark
.
light
dark
And the faces bowed their heads
About the Creator
Kevin Rolly
Artist working in Los Angeles who creates images from photos, oil paint and gunpowder.
He is writing a novel about the suicide of his brother.
http://www.kevissimo.com/
FB: https://www.facebook.com/Kevissimo/



Comments (3)
You really moved my soul, my well kept memories flew into the flames with you. Brilliant.
what an unbearable pain, so skillfully penned into an emotion that burns the souls of onlookers...I am so sorry you had to experience such sorrow. Thank you for sharing it
Kevin, I felt like an uninvited guest into sorrow and that I've shared something deeply personal today. It had a feeling of ritual to it, of a ceremony that is not new where people gather and burn the past in a bid to make sense of the present. Thank you - for sharing and writing something that touched me.