I burned in those days
before the fire was put out.
Burning: heat, expectation, passion, release.
Stacked up and showing bright,
radiating the glow around the
campfire of life.

But subjugation.
This the slow work of night,
down and down and down to ash.
Escaping to the air and
not coming back.

Hidden, though, a secret:
a tiny ember kept alive,
locked in soul’s underground
locker, waiting, waiting for
a moment to bring back
a flame and burn me alive.

22/2/2025