Burn it

Breathe in

Breathe out

The smell of earth after a rain was magnificent, the dirt so rich and full of minerals, like when coffee is freshly brewed. The colors of all living things were vibrant and luscious. It mesmerized the eye, like a thousand jewels in the sun. It was almost intoxicating to all the senses, the beauty of the land we stood on.

It’s a day of celebration, and it was as if the world has freshly showered for the occasion. The symbolism of rain was significant; we had all cleansed ourselves in it, both soul and body, with the tears of the sky. Although the wood had to be covered for the great fire that would occur later that night, all other activities resumed as usual.

In the center of the field, a pole was placed in the ground, its gold color shimmering like a beacon of light that attracted the young spirits like moths to a flame. Soon, each child would have a brightly colored ribbon in their hand to wrap around the pole with speed and precision, only to unravel it and start again.

Woven baskets held an abundance of fresh flowers, their long stems would allow gentle hands to bind one to the next. An infinite circle of brightly scented petals to be crowned on the heads of all, for today we let in the light and shoo away the dark. Spring had come and blessed us with the wondrous joys of life, but summer was here, marked with the equinox and the heat of the sun.

The entrance was lined with fire, another cleansing process. Burning away any dark spirits contaminating our souls. More torches would be lit the closer the night came, only to be blown out again for the single uniting flame. On the far side of the field, a stage had been prepared for the theatrics of the story of the Green Man and the May Queen. 

All of this was so familiar to me. I have lived it for 26 years now, since childhood. Nurtured into religion by my parents. Guided to the love of my life by the stars. I found myself here in memory, the time of our courtship and joining of lives. The day was similar to this one with damp earth and burning flames, it was truly a celebration.

I relish in the feeling once more, receiving my delicate crown and sprinting around the pole till my legs could no longer. Rolling down the grass hills, filled with so much life. Now the night was ascending upon us, and more torches were lit, appearing as glowing orbs against the darkening sky.

It was nearing time, one that formed a knot in my stomach, lolling around like a heavy stone. The joy of summer had lifted my spirits, but the agonizing darkness still held me down, not quite letting me float from land in a blissful stupor. The reality check that I was still alone. My pang of grief strangled my heart.

I watched as they started the fire games. They dodged between sticks of it, juggled it, danced around it, and ran through it, purifying and healing themselves by it. I stood from afar, watching. Disassociating. We were supposed to be together. We were supposed to be doing this together. I’m alone. I thought I had washed away those twisted sorrows in the rain; cleansed my soul and my mind from this funk within.

The fears hauntingly resurfaced without permission, blazing in my head like the small torches of fire spread out before me. These feelings were so violently bright, it burned to look and touch them; singeing my soul into the pits of hell. I shoved my emotions down my throat, but it made it hard to breathe and become lodged next to my heart.

It ached; my chest. Dropping to my knees, I ask the earth for strength and the full moon for guidance. Asking it to rid me of my love for this man, even if it makes me void of feeling at all. Suddenly the world was very dark, illuminated by the shine of the silver goddess in the sky. I could breathe; my soul felt restored into my body. I realized that the torches had been snuffed out, and the final ceremony was commencing; The Great Fire.

It was huge; the outline alone appeared to tower the nearest treeline silhouette, like a mountain. Wood was collected for a year for this massive fire, and it could burn all night. A single match was used, and that was all it took for the entire entity to be engulfed in waves of orange and red. The immense heat radiated, even to me from this distance, and subconsciously I reached for my face to ensure my eyebrows were still intact.

My flesh was dewed after many tears had escaped my leaking eyes from my earlier episode. I felt entranced, lingering between the feelings of loss and awe of the sight of the fire. Trapped between enjoying the warmth and wanting to incinerate my being. I found myself standing at the base of the fire.

The lump in my throat became increasingly uncomfortable, it itched and burned, My palms sweat, possibly from the heat or the anxiety in my veins, and it made it difficult to retrieve the only thing I brought from my pocket. The picture was crumpled, and I carefully straightened the edges. It was a photo of us, from this day 4 years ago. I brought it to burn it, but his face was so captivating. The softness of his hair and the scent of his skin still lingered in my mind.

The large fire was meant to be unifying, yet I feel so alien. I realized I didn’t know what I was doing here. I came here to celebrate. Celebrate what? My own self-pity? That I have no one? This was ridiculous. I thought I could move past this pain, but it gripped me at the core. I’m not ready to move on. I can’t be here.

I feel the eyes of the others surrounding the fire, waiting to see what I will do next, but even I don’t know what I will do. I just knew that this was not the place, not the time. I wanted so desperately to move on only to reach the summit and realize I can’t. I chickened out. It was too much for my heart, still freshly riddled with injury, oozing blood outside my veins. This was not my happy Beltane. I’ll try again next year.