Angela Kelsey

“woven into fire”

Early this morning I heard on the radio that Christopher Hitchens died.

Hitchens has written for the past eighteen months or so about his “living dyingly,” giving his readers more than a glimpse into a part of life that is often private to the point of hidden.

A couple of days ago, I read this honest and moving Vanity Fair piece, in which Hitchens weaves his personal experience, poetry, and philosophy in an examination of the question of whether what doesn’t kill us, in fact, makes us stronger.

I’ve been thinking about him since then.

Tonight Mr. Z. and I went to hear Seraphic Fire‘s Christmas concert.

They performed Stephen Paulus’s “Hymn to the Eternal Flame,” and again I thought of Hitchens, “woven,” as we all are, “into fire.”

Here are the words:

Every face is in you, every voice, every sorrow
in you,
every pity, every love, every memory,
woven into fire.

Every breath is in you, every cry, every longing
in you,
every singing, every hope, every healing,
woven into fire.

Every heart is in you, every tongue, every trembling
in you,
every blessing, every soul, every shining,
woven into fire.