Beneath the grate, the orange pulse slows.
What was once a roaring, voracious mouth devouring the oak we felled together has struck a truce with the cold,
curling inward into a small, quiet breathing that mimics sleep but is actually death.
And now, just smoke.
My eyes water.
While the blue ghost detaches itself from the charred log to float upward into nothing, I am remembering how you told me that destruction is just another form of creation,
a lie we tell ourselves to survive the wreckage.
Ash is heavy.
Look at it.
Because the light is failing, the shadows that have been waiting patiently in the corners of the room stretch out their long, cool fingers to reclaim the floorboards,
teaching me that the true gift lies where the brightness surrenders to the dark.
A snap.
Then silence.
Cold returns.
About the Creator
Diane Foster
I’m a professional writer, proofreader, and all-round online entrepreneur, UK. I’m married to a rock star who had his long-awaited liver transplant in August 2025.
When not working, you’ll find me with a glass of wine, immersed in poetry.
Keep reading
More stories from Diane Foster and writers in Poets and other communities.
The steps to losing a child
Step One: Lose a child. Not what anyone wants to happen and nothing you can do to change it, but you can go through steps to becoming happy again. You can go through steps to loving again. You can go through steps to become a new you because after losing a child you will never be the same person you once were.
By Tabitha Hinkley3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Fantastic piece, and I love the art you paired with it.
Phenomenal poem very well written. I like that you’re using fire as a metaphor of silence, dark, and the inevitability of loss.