only forward

We can stand to see you burn, bird. We've faced fires before this blazing.
Seen you thrash yourself to ash, rise again renewed. Repeatedly.
No more. Believe me. No fear your wretched flame.
Don't dare think you stain us, or mark or scar or thaw us. That time is lost.
The pyre has grown shabby from your writhing and your wailing,
your naming all your changings, constantly re-emerging and always being
(almost) the bird you were before.
We cannot see you change and change and remain unchanged ourselves
Fat fucking chance. We won't accept another incarnation of you.
Not this time, bird. Now we are not made dumb by wonder.
The spectacle has staled. And still you don't know
You come back altered every time.
That's fire under your pyre you stupid fucking fowl. You change.
Each time your feathers melt to flame. You change.
You cannot end and end again and yet remain unmarked. It is not natural.
It is no kind of living. It is not a life at all.
I don't know what you think you are becoming
I do not even know what on earth you were before.
This land has been too bright for much too long. Our sight is scorched.
We don't see so much as look. Or closed our eyes too long ago to tell.
Go on falling to flame and firming back to flesh. We'll look away
Pretend new belief in newer yous. But you remember this
It will be important soon, in a time yet to come
when we are gone and none are left who see:
The rain comes for us all bird, and the rain will drench us all.