The Lessons of Time | Arianne Ilagan (11)

Some days ago a spell had been casted on me

Or maybe it had been a few months, I don’t remember

It wasn’t grand, to my disappointment

But something waning, like a fire’s ember 

I didn’t hop like a little bunny rabbit

Or leap like a careless frog

I didn’t run like the horses on the beach

With my hair in the wind, leaving the fog

Behind me. I see something creeping

It seems familiar, but I don’t think

Of anything 

Other than the fire

Once strong, so large, so ablaze

Now dwindling, dwindling, dwindling

I think of the spell casted a few days ago,

Or maybe a few years, I don’t remember

I wish it gave me Greatness

Or something silly to end the cycle

I want to fly like an eagle

Swim free like a whale

It’s impossible, always impossible, but yet I always wish

For something larger than myself 

The fire’s gone now. Nothing left but

Wood, sand, and ash

The orange flecks plead with me 

Standing over it, I kneel fast

And I think of the spell casted a few days ago,

Or a few minutes, I must’ve been gone

My hands tremble from the cold

I thought would soon abate. I was wrong

The blackened tips of my fingers match 

The charcoal, I turn it over and I think

Of the spell, that self-inflicted spell,

Years, months, minutes lost

Of just thinking, pondering, wishing

In the same spot I hadn’t moved from

It’s too late, I think

But too damn bad. I must.

I shield the embers and

Breathe the orange to life,

Pleading, Hoping, Wishing,

It warms you.