Fire Would

When I think of all the passions within us.

Emotions locked inside collective humanity,

It’s like firewood stacked high by the cord.

Unsure of its natural use.

We block doors open with the small pieces.

Tripping as we enter rooms dark and scary.

Hoping to catch the hallway light to our beds.

As if to chase away the ghosts of our mistakes.

We sometimes hit each other (in unfathomable rage)

With the ones that are shaped like bats.

Cursing the splinters in our palms

When the conflicts we start, at last, end.

If left too long unattended,

Termites and spiders take nest in the pile,

And we never use those pieces again,

Fearing we might get bit by neglect and decay.

Yet, when it is so cold in our world that we can see our breath,

(But can no longer reach for each other),

We still remember how to stay warm.

What it takes to survive the bitter nights alone.

We stare into the flames that come from us and to us,

While pondering on what will keep us human.

What will slay our hatreds, and return us to Eden?

Fire would.

________________________________________ 

orn b.

28 June 2018