I cook on an open fire with my cast iron pan,*
And scrub it out with river sand,
And rinse it in the fast flowing waters of the clear creek,
And a little curl of white smoke
Is enough to lull me to sleep tonight.
A soothing sight,
The comforting smell,
The monotonous pop and crackle of fire,
And I don't feel I'm out here all alone,
But I am.
Prometheus, you once brought the flames
Of progress to the human game
Of the same name,
And the gods put you in hell for that,
With an eagle, eternally eating your liver.
And so when I'm tempted to shed some light,
Offer my love on a winter's night,
Like a fire to some stranger's hearth,
Or just generally be kind,
I automatically put my hand over my liver,
And keep moving on.
Because for some, the stories of the gods
Make us humans feel we're not alone,
But we are,
Or might be better off.
JENN LANE is a poet, music, art lover from Cross Plains, Texas. She has an English degree from Texas Tech University in Lubbock, Texas.