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Burn Everything

5/27/20

By Under-productive GirlPublished 4 years ago 3 min read
2

They told me not to touch the fire, two not dance with the flames or whisper secrets into the wood before feeding the tremendous glow.

Instead, they urge me to run and breathe in the snowflakes, falling from the sky. They tell me to make snow angels and forget my sins, then I’ll be cleansed.

But I hate feeling cold, I can’t stand my bare skin swelling and turning purple like the cloudy winter sky.

I want to stay bundled up in warmth, play with the lighter hidden in my pocket.

I pray no one smells the lighter fluid.

I want to run away from their little circle; the circle where they bury all their secrets and failures in the sacred family mound of snow.

I want to build a bonfire and set myself ablaze, melt all the snow that has stuck my hair and skin and reveal all the sins and mud that has plagued my soul.

I want to look them in the eye, touch foreheads and thank them for the lessons before burning them to ash.

I want God as my witness as he sits nearby, praying with me, on each turmoil that has been preserved.

White as snow they say…

He and I look to each other, we know that I can be covered in as much snow as the sky will allow, but I will never be free from the past hurts and doings that have haunted me to this day.

I can no longer bear the ceremonies of preservation. Anyone could exhume the evidence, throw it at my feet and accuse me of being a falsifier in the eyes of God.

Fire is cleansing…

The way it burns and scorches the surface to release all that is inside.

Lovers of snow just don’t understand; it’s required to burn and destroy everything.

Create a new foundation – use the soot to paint the epic battle upon newly erected wall and call it history. After a while, it’s just a story – a lesson learned, and the rebuild of a better world is clearer and more precise.

The truth as been inside of me for so long; the journey to find it was treacherous and exhausting.

Once I found it, it glowed under the sun, shining like gold. From that moment on I was ready to set it all ablaze, melt it all to hot liquid and watch it swirl and suffer into a new beginning.

Yet, they told me not to touch the fire, but there was a spark in me from day one.

I can smell the embers; I can hear my name being whisper beneath the cracks of the burning wood.

They told me not to dance with the flames, but I snuck away and danced till my feet bled; I sang until my throat ached.

I burnt the ground beneath me.

They said it was unwise to whisper my sins into the wood before feeding them to flames. Yet, I whispered and shouted every single sin, secret, cry of pain and I watched the flames climb higher and higher, until it kissed the stars.

I did this till everything was new, till my skin felt like armor. I touched the fire till I was cleansed.

sad poetry
2

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Under-productive Girl

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