Vox Populi
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Dane Cervine: This Burning
In the dark ahead, it floats like an orange mirage,
eerie flame of light in the hills that surround Los Angeles
like taut, brown undulations—driving back from a conference
about youth, abused & neglected—how the world swims
in alternating waves of fierce light & dim shades of despair.
The plenary speaker with his grim tale of childhood—
the rapes, the abuse—how the system saved his life,
foster parents lifting him up far enough
to stand on his own DNA & the mysteries of karmic spirit
carrying his story to the New York Times,
his work to three presidential citations for excellence.
Now the road winds higher through the night as the orange glow
grows brighter, remembering the next speaker, Azim—
Persian born in Africa, educated in England,
financial consultant turned crusader against the violence
that took his son in the streets of San Diego,
a college student delivering pizza unfazed by the bogus address
in the run-down neighborhood, the 14 year old gang-banger
waiting for him with the gun, told he’d become a man
by taking the other one down. And in the aftermath,
Azim finding the 14 year old boy’s grandfather, saying
my son’s death must come to mean something—
how they banded together bent on saving at least one more,
and another, then another. How his eyes burned
as I shook his hand, thanked him for his story,
told him it means everything—
how I drove silently in the night
into the heaving hills of Los Angeles afire, so close now,
not knowing if there would be a way through,
the black asphalt road leading inexorably
into the smoke-orange flame of the grapevine,
the only way out being through—and there it was,
the fire-break, the very road I was on, separating
Hades’ heat on one side from the quiet untouched hills
on the other. In between, in this eerie safety
of windshield & engine & wheels, I see
there is but one way to travel this world,
and it is towards, not away,
from this burning.
Copyright 2024 Dane Cervine. Appeared in the anthology Sacred Fire (Adams Media) and the book The Jeweled Net of Indra (Plain View Press); the poem was inspired by the true life story of a father I met at a mental health conference in San Diego, and my subsequent drive home through a night-blaze in the hills north of Los Angeles.
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“. . . thanked him for his story, told him it means everything– ” We are all stories which give meaning to life, to everything.
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Deep thanks. It’s so easy to turn away from the fire, either try and forget it or at least escape it at a safe distance. Whether the crisis is climate violence or human on human, ways of going into the burning are packed with bravery this poem explains; compassion its heroes show, lessons for us all. It works as a prose poem for me, too. The narrative style expands the audience of readers who will understand what needs to be understood.
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Jim, as always, well-said.
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Towards — NOT away. We need more poems such as this one. Thanks, Michael and Dane Cervine for this powerful poem — and so full of sounds & images anchoring the heart. Bravo.
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Thanks, Laure-Anne. Despite the dire images in the poem, the theme is one of hope.
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What struck me most was the ending. DO something, don’t run away from it. “I see / there is but one way to travel this world, / and it is towards, not away, / from this burning.”
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Yes, towards not away from the problem.
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Wrenching and brilliant. Azim: what a human being! But that’s just one piece of a beautifully woven fabric!
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So powerful!
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Yes, it is. I find the parallel between the child abuse and the abuse of nature very powerful. We destroy everything beautiful we touch.
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Wow! So many thoughts. The fires in the hills above my house as a child. The day we stayed at the school to be sure all students were home. Rodney King, the gas station afraid to sell me gas, the fire on both sides of the freeway driving to San Diego from CSDH. This one hit a nerve. Thank you.
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