An ember in the ashes
A flicker in the fall
Spark the candle
Burning
Working out the thaw
You saw my lone flame flicking
Dancing in the pane
You scooped it up and hid it
Dousing it with rain
But don't you know that flame, dear
Is as certain as the sea
And just as winds can't command the tide
So you cannot tame me
A wildfire burning
Starts with one small spark and spit
An ember in the ashes
Lighting up this broken pit
It rises and it roils
And water blooms it evermore
So douse me all you'd like to, darling
My fire can yet take more
Take shelter if you can find it
For I will rise above the trees
I am a wildfire burning
No longer yours, I'm free
About the Creator
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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