The Cleansing Fire

Catastrophic dense cloak of the dark, devouring my every micro-spark.

Encapsulating echoes, laughter as they point their finger and rejoice.

I hear their voice, a heightened pitch “Burn that witch!”

My light, a thorn within their side, a truth their demons cannot hide.

I let out a cry, I will not comply, this is a lie, I don’t want to die!

Please God, hear my plea, save me. Is it too late? Is this my fate?

Failures, mishaps, smears and fears, the weight of all the heavy years.

They all volunteer to adhere to the domineer Bombardier.

“Burn that witch!”

Bound by ropes and serrated chains, flesh cuts deep by ancient stains.

Scorched parchment on wooden floor, I face the final door.

Please cease fire, the flames rise higher, this is my funeral pyre.

I hear crackles, rhythmic and deep, where incandescent shadows leap.

Frantic, panic, fraying raw. The jagged edge of nature’s law.

A whisper from the heart of death.

All hurt, and shame must be released, to find the path to inner peace.

My lungs like stones, begin to fail, through caustic air and sulfur’s veil.

Numinous light glowing blue, it is calling me and calling you.

A Theophany, a golden voice, offers the spirit one last choice.

“Do not refrain or sustain, toss all negativity into the flame!”

I exonerate the hate, the old iniquity, and sink into deep tranquility.

My body combusts, ashes to ashes dust to dust.

I taste the heat of a Phoenix bliss, as I am awakened from a metamorphosis.

Forged in the crucible, powerful and new, I rise with wings of golden hue.

No more the victim, no more the stain.

I carry the fire but not the pain.