XVII

Two flames rise in the wilderness
one leaps in wild decree,
a rabid wolf upon a scent,
a fever running free.
The other holds a steady glow,
a hush beneath the trees;
where travelers can remove their hoods,
finding warmth in what they see.

From afar they look alike,
same spark or same debris.
But one devours without care,
and one, a shelter for the weak.
Burning only to consume, or
a burning bush to set free.
One leaves a wake of ashes,
one leaves the ground to seed.

I think
you think too much
of me

There is an ache in the ember,
where the earnest truth resides;
how the wanting makes us human,
and hunger means we are alive.
I am not a drifting shadow,
nor a starving child deprived,
I am a woman steeped in need
just learning to survive.

Warned of the outlandish cost,
at times I must recede.
Bread : the body :: life : the soul;
how it can make you bleed.
But I won’t harm what I adore,
yet everyone must eat.
I will not let you pay a cost
you can’t afford to meet.

I think
you think too much
of me

Well, Solomon had his twin flame—
nights she would not let him sleep.
But already I’m paying a price,
and cheap loaves give no relief.
I will offer up no danger,
only warmth so you can sleep.
But oh, there is a simple truth,
the one we do not speak:
We are alive because we hunger.
We are holy when we feast.

And I think
you think too much
of me