Some people
will take a spark
from the fire inside of you
in their small, trembling hands

and they will say
you did not do enough
to kindle the brush,
that the glow is not light
or that they cannot smell smoke
or hear in yesterdays
your grandmother’s soft “mmph”
as you warmed her atop her lap.

What do they know
about heat,
the refusal,
the wine-dark way
from path to journey?

Listen closely:
fire is meant to burn.
Scald their palms,
let their scars remind them
of who you are,
but do not
believe them.



Copyright © 2018 John Grimmett. All rights reserved.

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