She Brings Up the Flame
A POEM
She brings up the time
they gathered around the fire,
crackling embers dancing in the night.
She was sixteen, just starting to grasp the world,
still a girl, but teetering on the edge of womanhood.
Were you scared? I want to ask,
but she’s lost in memories,
her fingers tracing the flame as if it holds secrets.
“We shared stories under the stars, can you believe it?”
She’s probably thinking of laughter,
the warmth of companionship, the glow of the fire.
The real world flickers like that flame,
consuming and illuminating all at once.
It’s been casting shadows on her dreams for years,
burning through the kindness she offered so freely.
“Go on, sit closer,” she says,
“It’s warm, so warm.”
One of us seeks comfort;
one of us has grown weary.
Her scars are all I think about.
What could leave such a mark?
