Days of Ashes

Summary

The author reflects on a life filled with regret and a sense of wasted potential, despite not committing any intentional wrongs, and is currently in a period of self-reckoning and the desire for renewal.

Abstract

In "Days of Ashes," the author, Gretchen Lee Bourquin, pens a poignant reflection on her life, which she views as having been squandered. She feels defeated and burdened by regret, perceiving herself as a "murderer" and "terrorist" of her own potential. Despite recognizing that her sins are merely "accidental," she is tormented by the weight of her inactions and the unfulfilled dreams of her youth. The metaphor of ashes signifies both the remnants of her past and the potential for rebirth, akin to a baby bird rising from the soot. The author acknowledges the stench of ash that clings to her, symbolizing the deep-seated impact of her perceived failures. The piece concludes with a reference to another work, suggesting a theme of transformation and learning from one's experiences.

Opinions

The author expresses a deep sense of personal failure and self-criticism, feeling that she has not lived up to her potential.
There is a palpable sense of guilt and self-blame for the life she believes she has not lived fully.
The author views her shortcomings as more significant than the undetected offenses of others, indicating a heightened sense of personal responsibility.
The metaphor of ashes and the rebirth of a baby bird reflects the author's hope for personal redemption and the possibility of starting anew despite past regrets.
The tone of the piece is introspective and self-reflective, with an undercurrent of self-forgiveness and the desire to move forward.

Days of Ashes

What will you do with your one wild and precious life? — Mary Oliver

Dear Mary, Today I do not feel wild Or precious I am deflated Defeated And I have squandered all that’s precious All that I might have acquired in five long decades

What have I done with my one atrocious life? I am so deeply buried in the manure of regret The bile of incompetence that even the precious parts smell of their stink

I am a murderer, a terrorist of my own potential Voiceless, crippled Inexcusable Disgusting

And yet I have done nothing wrong but “be” Why do my accidental sins weigh heavier in my own heart while worse offenses go undetected? Perhaps it is the error of omission that is so very hard to bear A life, unlived, undone And I have wronged myself most of all.

I am in the days of ashes When the black flecks fly off bird wings One smoky hot mess With the dreams of a child Of a baby bird that will surely try To rise again

And each time The stench of ash stays on me a bit deeper Into my flesh Even if I am the only one to smell it Like carbon, black buried in a diamond mine

for another poem about lessons, try

Gretchen Lee Bourquin obtained a Bachelor’s Degree in Literature/Creative Writing. She’s enjoying the opportunity that Medium provides to get a little more personal and put the creativity back in her writing. Follow on my Facebook Writing Page, Twitter, or Wordpress. Or buy me a kofi!

Days of Ashes

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