The Flaming By Barbara Sanders, LCSW ———————
Thundering music flares
Wondrous wind, lifting ashes aloft
Electrifying the paint horse’s body
Floating, swirling up, up, up
Challenging her muscles to
Into the atmosphere,
Churn, burn, gallop, sailing westward
Moving from living body to air, rising
Flying through sacred lands of
Higher and higher
Natives and immigrants,
Into the sky, red, dark heat.
Birds, animals, plants, water, and Mother Earth.
Fire clearing away debris, brush, Beasts, limbs, leaves, trunks of trees,
Initially, the woman was a passenger
Crispy blood sacrifices of bones and beaks,
Enthralled with the mare's magnificent power
Claws toasted, roasted
Soaring over land, rivers, and sand.
Wiping away all sin, all ego
Then, horse and woman began to merge
All of life that lived
Whirling into one being,
Before The Flaming.
Powerful thighs racing toward The setting sun,
After the fire blew itself out,
Immense strength, energy, passion.
The horse emerged, then lay down on The charred forest floor, her journey
Music reverberates, a cacophony of sound,
Complete as she pushes her foal from her womb,
The woman is lying on the flushed earth
Forward into life
Rooted to the underworld
Full of majesty and light
Deep within the forest.
Unscarred by the forest's fever.
Crackling, pops and swooshes
Mother licking baby, soft and sweet
Of heat flow by and then,
The foal comes to life, breathing in
She witnesses the fire
Clear air, damp smells of birth
She is becoming the fire
Opening her eyes to a new world of
She is the fire
Peace, pain and delight
Sparkling, rippling,
Joyfully flexing unused muscles,
Prickling and plundering, gobbling up
And flawless, fresh skin.
Every morsel of dryness possible
With her mother’s help
Flaming, burning, crinkling, torching skin, Bits of bone, wafting with the
She stands for the very first time.
Artist: Ben Griffith 6
