Guest Poet Clarence Thompson

Trial by Fire

"All flesh is grass." On the wind,
from across an open field
I smell the smoke of the coming end.
The grass turns to ash.
And I am dry grass
in Your flame which, searching, 
burns away my life's material.

Let me find refuge, then
in the immaterial, in Your words
which last forever.  When the fire
has passed, all that's left 
is what faith has grasped.

January, 2000

Clarence Thompson's Questions:

1. Is the meaning of the poem clear?

2. Do the images flow together?  Does the metaphor of grass in fire work?

Thank you very much!

The Albany Poetry Workshop