(inspired by Vík, Iceland– May 2018)


Fire and Ice

Sand, black as night,
is off-set by a jet of air
streaking the ashen sky.

A roar of wind
startles the waves,
swelling, crashing white anger
against the charcoal shore.

I take matter in my hands
and crush, crumble like fine graphite
to feel volcanic songs
that once burned here:

How that fateful day
turned stormy like tides,
brought air to ground,
in unexpected harmony—

(If a plane falls on a beach
and no one is around to hear it,
did it ever fall at all?)

© Rebecca Goes Rendezvous, 2020

21 thoughts on “Fire and Ice (poem)

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