Sunday
Arts and PoetryBurning Lake
burning lake
each flag
offers a prayer for all
sentient beings, and behind that
the hopes of the hangers
for a better life, for better luck
next time. here, they hang
from every high place, dancing
in the wind like fruit
on the tree of aspiration
I prefer the old flags
wind worn and faded
translucent as hope—
come, stand on this bridge
and listen to the wind
as it snaps at the flags, the old blessings
still rising unto heaven. feel them
gently brushing your face as they pass
like a mother’s fondest dreams
signifying everything–
guaranteeing nothing
JA Fink
November 11, 2012