Some people feel like a fire
I feel more like an ember
still hot enough to
burn
if you get too close.
I can flare into a fire if the right wind
comes along, pushing me
into the sky, the kind of fire
that burns through the night
rages through forests
eats through earth
but settles down again
the kind to roast marshmallows over,
or keep a cabin warm
in winter. But
the thing about being an ember,
is the rain hurts.
Some people grow from a good soak
rising up through the earth
reaching up towards the sun
they feed, and pulse, and grow
I shrink
losing the warmth that
makes me,
me.
soggy and steaming ash, acrid smoke
curling into the sky
gradually, until I disappear
An ember doesn't like the rain.
it's scared one day, the
rain will put it completely out.
And anyways,
who could learn to love,
something that,
at the end of the day,
after it tricks you with its warmth,
after it's kind
after it toasts
your food
and
its heat kisses you,
after all the effort you put into
stoking back the flames,
will still always burn you.