The Silence of Flames

Watch out,
they might have said,
for the silence of flames–
crafty old dancers
carrying secrets they bought off the wind.

Sparks spread like pollen,
flowers alight with their own heat;
these plumed birds do not
understand the games of war.

Watch
for the flame within,
the nettle pinching in the throat.
Do not,
like those into whose eyes you look,
forget that no man plays the music
that moves flickering feet.

Mists that move in later
may mingle with the smoke
of these finished dances;
let them move—

Fire is no stranger to the cooling peace
of small mornings;
it only sleeps.

In its silence,
it can never be conquered.
Breathe, and
do not despair.

 

©K Paige Medina 25 February 2017

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