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By Elizabeth Cooper
I stopped the world from burning.
When the heavens rained fire
and the rivers ran red,
I drank sunlight like medicine
and sipped fire through crystal straws.
When the sun melted like wax
I poured fire back in its orb and
spread a sheath over the earth.
When the gods shot fire through muskets
like snowballs in winter,
I opened wide my mouth
and swallowed each shot down,
letting fire dissolve
on the surface of my tongue.
Forests grew where fire could not.
Water ran where magma would not.
The sunlight shone
but could not overwhelm us.
The sunlight shone
but I soaked it through my skin.
They labeled me the hero.
They paraded me through streets.
Glory became my drink,
victory my food.
Praise met me whether I stepped to the right
or the left.
But now I’m addicted to sunlight.
I spend my nights in deep sweats,
dreaming of light running like gold,
dreaming of drinking light like water.
I pass people by,
praise on their lips,
but their faces blur.
My skin burns for want,
for lack of what I do not have.
Unable to hear their voices,
I give no response,
I do not smile as before.
I stare the sun down
with dreams of opening its orb,
letting light pour down like water,
watching light fall,
pool around my ankles.
I imagine sitting on my knees in its streams,
drinking light with cupped hands.
My mouth salivates even with food on my plate.
I thirst with water in my cup.
I have plenty
but it is not what I want.
I am the survivor still dreaming of war.
They give me glory
but I wish for fire.
So I build a ladder.
I build during late nights when I cannot sleep,
when I cannot sleep for the great expanse of my desire.
I build,
I build,
the people bringing wood when I ask
and nails when I need them.
They ask what for
but shall receive no response.
When I finish,
I step out of my darkness
and raise my ladder into the sky.
They watch as it reaches higher
and higher,
and leans against the sun.
They watch as I climb into the blue,
every reach bringing me closer to the light.
I climb
and I climb
and I don’t look down.
I climb when they shout for me to come back down,
I climb when they warn of my downfall.
I climb past the sky,
past the stars,
past the planets in their orbit.
I climb until I can’t hear their voices
and I keep climbing.
Keep reaching.
I climb to reach my elixir,
I climb until I burn but keep living.
I reach into the sun,
feel her glory burn my hands,
make my skin glow yellow.
I reach
and become one of her golden ones
as she makes me come alive.
I drink from her fountain,
I drink and I drown in her fire,
but I can’t drink enough.
So I peel the sun back like a sheet
and climb inside her glory.
I wrap her around me like a blanket
and drink until I'm faint with satisfaction.
The ladder slips.
Voices shout but I don’t hear,
distracted by the sun’s beauty.
The ladder falls back to earth,
but I don’t hear the crash.
They raise their voices higher,
but I don’t hear for the fire
growing in my veins
and boiling beneath my skin.
Fire runs around me like a river
and yet I breathe.
Down to earth,
the people stand in fear,
watching their hero burn alive.
“He’s so overwhelmed by the light,
he doesn’t know he’s dying!”
They say.
“He’s drinking too much,
if he keeps going,
he’ll drown,
he'll fall!”
“The light is blinding him!
If he’d only close his eyes,
he could see what’s happening.”
“If he keeps drinking our light,
we’ll fall in darkness!”
“So much light
is not for one person!
We all need what he’s taking
only for himself.”
“He saved us from light,
but who’ll save us from darkness?”
The people watch
as the orb
drip,
drip,
drains
into the mouth of their hero.
But back in the sun,
I’m not dying as they think I am.
Sunlight fills my lungs,
clogs my throat,
but I don’t notice.
I don’t notice,
as death peels the sheet back over
and buries me in my sanctuary.
What could not burn me drowns me.
What first gave me life becomes my demise.
The ladder fell back to earth
and eventually so will I,
wrapped in sunlight,
a smile on my face,
a stomach filled with poison.