Her, in Fire

Fire is no match for her.

Inside her, lava flows.

It roars and burns,

turns being into ash,

drives existence into nothingness.

Then she gathers her ashes, grain by grain,

holds them close in her arms,

and like a phoenix—

like a shoot rising beside a wounded tree—

she grows from her pain,

grows and grows and grows…

until once again, she passes

from being into nothingness.

From dust, to dust, she rises.

She escapes—

and she takes.