rising up
from melting ice
black soot runs like
flaming glue
the centre is
purple licking blue
smoke billowing straight up through flume
smothering pine spews gray fumes
as I watch black water combust
I try to explain the darkness
that is so natural within me
it comforts me
and corners me
like the paradox of
snow burning
I glow with fury when I think
about how I got here
humid hospital, fluorescent lights
and earlier the fire blazing in the sky
thinking I could change my mind
it is hard to talk about it without
feeling unworthy
You wouldn't think wet tamarack
would light in a mud track
in february
but I can see the flames
rising up as the pitch catches wildly
How can there be beauty in darkness?
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