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Image for the poem fire walk with me

fire walk with me


(what fools we are
who seek the rarest gems
but love hurts us
and poetry hurts us)


she came to me out of her darkness.
she came when I beckoned her, in pursuit of a
flagellant art, those dire auguries.

too often, she has gone where the fields are barren &
the canvas is blank. she attends the altar of her muse,
makes prayers as to a goddess, entreating the seeds
that bloom into poems.

but the muse is not submissive to minstreling drifters &
lyrical harlots. the muse, in her tender mercies, gives us
a flame to light our way, or singe our fingers if we are
unworthy: we plaintive, pensive poets.

in her bleak prison, she listens for the song of the skylark,
the harsh wisdom of the owl; the bars are vaporous,
but they hold her nonetheless.

I’m a brooding soldier, & my battles are behind me:
smoldering embers of forests & bridges. I cannot be her hero.
but one day, she will build an inferno, & escort me right into
the demented mouth of it.

she’s a woman of fire, & she burns…


(Art: Cesar Santos)



Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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