It flew from the fire


It takes far far more
than it can be easily imagined
to diminish the human spirit.
If it is connected
to someone, or something
we deeply care about,
it is said, this is especially so.

Then it will prevail.
It’ll endure almost anything,
until when the final torch dies,
and it becomes nothing, apparently.

A defiantly spitting spark,
ending up a snap of white smoke
to rain down as settling dust.

Yet even within the ashes,
for one of the heat born,
one tempered from resilience,
in the blackest of soot left behind,
from there, that darkest place,
will claw another phoenix.


One thought on “It flew from the fire

  1. Nectarfizz says:

    I love that you are sharing new work again. This poem is so emotional and full of imagery.

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