Ashes
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From the start
I felt a need for a new heart
from the ashes I was born
so that I may impart
the wisdom and knowledge God has given me
From the start
His beauty for my ashes.
FLAMES BURN EVERY INCH AROUND ME
EVERYTHING I TOUCH TURNS BRIGHT ORANGE
I LIGHT A CIGARETTE WITH MY FINGER
INHALING EVERY BREATH OF SMOKE
THE FIRE BURNS BRIGHTLY
CONSUMING MY LIFE
MY MEMORIES
We are the unfortunate ones,
The ones forged by ash and claimed by fire,
The ones whose whispers they hear as they dance through the blood red sky,
People don't understand her.
Born from the ashes,
her eyes shine like embers.
A spark ignites in her soul.
Her heart, a continuous burning coal.
Her passion burns brighter than her fears.
There’s blood in the sky,
and there are daisies on the ground,
and there are ashes in the air.
You’re surrounded by marigolds.
She dreams of the ocean late at night
and longs for the wild salty air.
We all know the beauty of waves at twilight;
But she wants sails bathed in starlight,
Winds raking their fingers through her hair,
Whisps of ashy gray smoke occasionally drift over the walls. Sometimes, when the wind blows just the right way, I can smell the charred, silent world outside of my fortress.
Dear Branches,
Gnarled and twisted.
Dear leavess,
Brown and rotting,
We give thanks to thee,
Dear tree
For through thee
Our family lives vicariously.
Though dead and gone,
I feel like that.
That pale greyish wisp of ash that crumbles beneath the slightest touch,
That's been consumed by a ravenous fire that first caressed
Then incinerated every fiber of it's being.
I feel like that.
Like a phoenix rising from the ashes,
I breathe this air one more time,
I get back up, though I was burnt to the ground,
And just like that phoenix,
I may be missing a few feathers and have a few scars,
December ashes cold and gasping lay,
upon the earth- the Millions gray.
Amidst the frozen earth of Ash, the torches flame--
the Light holding back these Bleak days.
they burn-
We sit idle upon our thrones, taking
in our wretched domain. It's humor-
ous how they scurry about as if it
mattered, running faster and fast-
er, pain and anguish and rust.
How comical.
Burning ashes fall upon my shoulders,
and screaming bodies run.
I look through the blur of faces,
and don't know what can be done.
