Burning the Old Village

Linda Crosfield's poems have been published in several journals and anthologies and in four chapbooks of her own: Ways to Get to Here; Tea in a China Cup; Generation Dance; and Etiquette, all published by her imprint, Nose-in-Book Publishing. She blogs sporadically at http://purplemountainpoems.blogspot.com. She lives, writes, and makes books in Ootischenia (which means "valley of consolation" in Russian), at the confluence of the Columbia and Kootenay Rivers in southeastern BC, on land that was once home to a Doukhobor village. Winter solstice night in 2003 saw the last remaining buildings, including the formerly brick-clad dom, razed because they were becoming a hazard to wandering animals and curious children. They are still missed. "Burning the Old Village" was first published in a Leaf Press chapbook of poems from Honeymoon Bay edited by Patrick Lane entitled In the Darkness. In the Dream.

Dom ~ the main, brick-clad building
in a traditional Doukhobor village.

The year we burned the dom it hardly snowed.
The roof had fallen in. Could not be saved.

Deer stole the seeds the grosbeaks left behind.
Sunflowers-in-waiting a carpet on the ground.

The roof had fallen in. Could not be saved.
One exquisite match strike; it was done.

Sunflowers-in-waiting a carpet on the ground.
Roused from their winter bed, the skunks emerged.

One exquisite match strike; it was done.
A swift retreat of black and white indignity.

Roused from their winter bed, the skunks emerged.
The night was molten cold. So little snow.

A swift retreat of black and white indignity.
Snowdrifts a memory. We burned memories, too.

The night was molten cold. So little snow.
Wish for swallows to find new homes come spring.

Snowdrifts a memory. We burned memories, too.
Deer stole the seeds the grosbeaks left behind.

Wish for swallows to find new homes come spring.
The year we burned the dom it hardly snowed.