“Pain teaches us to take our fingers out the fucking fire.” – Mary McAnally

Amidst the glorious absurdity of it all he walked,
barefoot, on snow and fire, resolute-if-flinching,
and even now we see his footsteps of particle and
heat disappearing, alone-as-ever, beyond the
horizon, where someone else, stepping out the shower,
or taking a break from work, or putting down a book
might catch a glimpse of him, elemental, gliding
through darkness and pain toward the sun,
a solar flare returning home.