crisp embers burn what remained of her heart

hopeless eyes gaze upon a force that may not be reckoned with.

flames **** all.

all those wonderful memories.

turned to a wisp that flares in her nose.

her  kids. their kids. somebody else's kids too.

careless playing in the basement,

petty quarrels in the kitchen.

the fire took all.

now they call her mad

  mad
as she weeps over what they've forgotten,

and holds tightly to her chest what she can remember.

mad, when she turns them away

because their faces are reminders of the flame.

mad, since she could never imagine losing them,

till now.

her home held her heart.

but for a time she'd never forget,

it was taken away.

my masters tell me

slave on, slave

I pick up my pickaxe and crack down on the rock

my masters tell me

you don't matter. if you ain't bleedin', you can go on.

slave on, slave

I pick up my pickaxe, swing high, stop low.

the rock just hardens.

my masters tell me

you ain't strugglin'. I was strugglin'. you dont know nothin' yet.

slave on, slave

I pick up my pickaxe and my arms start to ache. cant say nothin' or i'll get hurt again.

I swing down harder. the rock still shines.

in its reflection, my agony and all them other emotions. look back at me. with smiles.

they point at the hangin' tree.

my masters tell me,

its work or die. so i works'. i hear an echo say "perish"

i pick up my pickaxe. swing down. my arms crumble. no mo' good.

but that rock broke. jus' another one in its place.

my masters tell me

you still got legs. so do they.

they dont understand.