Waves of Fire
Purification is said to hurt. I'm not sure that's true, but I wrote this about the concept.
Fire like waves--
severe passion blossoming,
crashing into the walls built around hearts,
hardened to protect the tender flesh inside,
that's
screaming,
thrashing,
aching,
dying
under the suffocating weight of the dark, brittle cast
clumsily rendered in amateur attempts to patch away pain.
Come, little one,
come to the fire;
it burns
and consumes
and bleeds away--
the gunk,
the garbage,
the caked-on goo,
the dung you mistook for a
soothing, healing salve--
everything must go.
Yes, it hurts.
You are coming to die.
Die, little one.
Die to old, live to new.
Is this phantom life worth living?
Die, little one, die to lies.
Come near to me,
come into the fire.
Come, let yourself burn.
I can't wait to see what you will become.
About the Creator
Ruza Aldin
I don't know me. Let's find out.
Keep reading
More stories from Ruza Aldin and writers in Poets and other communities.
Is it really overboard?
Note: I don't make enough money to participate in Vocal challenges. This was more inspired by Darrsheena Raja Segarran and her kindness than anything else. This is also a very loose interpretation. I needed a prompt anyway, so I figured that if I can't enter the challenge itself, I'll just take it and do what I want with it. Her short story is a lot more faithful to the guidelines.
By Ruza Aldinabout a year ago in Poets
Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Wow! ❤️
This was so poignant and profound. Loved your poem!