fire
Inez Louwagie
Fire a true story inez louwagie june 2020 For Gerard (1934-2018) With thanks to Charlotte, rona, Gunther, Noor, Sabine, Babs, Goedele, Kaat, Lucienne, NoĂŤl, Myriam, Steven en Didier, Johan, Inge, Yoko translation: Rona kennedy
zuidhuis, oostvleteren, belgium may 1977
The war is long over the fire has died down
and still, something is laying dormant deep inside
like a shadow
that suddenly catches fire
Yesterday, it was Flora Like a wild beast, she ran at my father She knocked him over and carried on walking as if nothing had happened His glasses were in pieces and blood was coming from his head
She must have needed that
Sometimes you just want to
break out
because, before you know it, it’s over
I know, you shouldn’t be angry, or shout Some things just have to be done Life is what it is
You learn to deal with it
short and grubby, like a children’s vest You get the measure of it
“Women aren’t what they used to be, like they were before the war” He often says that, my father.
hE is from before the war A man built to last, I heard someone say He likes building things with metal He puts on a big black mask and commands me to hold the steal rods against each other And then, everything is crackling and smoke, sudden light and white stripes everywhere My fingers get hot and glowing sparks hit my arms It scorches but I don’t make a sound I want to be one of those women, from before the war
Aah, our little communicant! Go round with the hors d’oeuvres, love
But
there are these days
Hail Mary Full of Grace The Lord is with thee Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jezus Holy Mary, mother of God pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death Amen
Don’t pull a face you should be happy Get a move on uncle Roger is looking for you He wants to take a family photo
Days of wind and fire
I hate flowery dresses
Nobody sees it, it’s deep inside
It runs its course like something from before my time I know what needs to be done but I have to hurry, not be seen
It should look like an accident
a perfect accident
someone forgot to blow out the candles and suddenly the confessional was on fire
These things happen, sometimes Life is like that short and grubby like a children’s vest
You learn to deal with it
I was your age, when I first lit the fire, he says His eyes look straight through me, and dart far away, beyond the barn It was the end of August and the wheat was dry The flames spread across the field, gathering speed, all the way to there! His huge hands cut the air, they paint thick clouds of smoke the barn stayed untouched, because the wind came from the other direction, he says and that it all went so fast, that no one saw anything
Only we know about this Just us alone
The wind is coming from the right direction today and no one notices that I’m gone