You bear these blisters
And wear dry, blackened skin.
I take down my mane
And shake it out like a lion.
I take down my fire
And shake out the ashes.

Flowers whip at my cheeks
And thorns get stuck in my clothes.
I run fast down the hills.
My hair lights grasses and cloves.
I run fast before you.
My fire burns at your nose.

Through the overgrown meadow,
Embers lay on my path.
You run to get me
And take me back.
You run with a bucket of water
And take a pale for the ash.

Over my head you pour it,
And I shriek with searing pain.
I lay on the ground
And feel for my flame.
I lay at your feet
And feel only the coals I became.  

My searing skull, your blackened face,
You take me by the arm.  
You walk me back to your path,
A cement-paved sidewalk through a park.
You walk me out of the heat of the sun,  
To your shaded path where I’ll be safe from harm.