bearing what burns

I speak with chalk, a lantern in the haze,

Its fragile flame against a restless storm;

A hundred eyes reflect my fleeting blaze,

Yet shadows press to swallow back its form.

They drain the quiet, pilfer time and breath,

They chip away until I stand half-bare;

Yet through the cracks, defying daily death,

A sudden spark of laughter floods the air.

At times I burn, a pyre of weary bone,

My voice reduced to ash and splintered sound;

Yet from the ash, a gentler truth is sown—

A seed takes root in silence underground.

So let me bear both brilliance and the scar:

A candle’s glow the darkness cannot mar.