It happens when you’ve been rubbed the wrong way.
It’s simple physics: building friction, harmful diction, sparks may fly.
Tension and confrontation pound with the potential to be abstergents
for your character, if you so chose.
Baptism by fire fissures into a schism where you must decide
who you are: burned and scarred, refined and cleansed, pained or marred.
The flame lacks mercy, discernment, and phlegmatic disposition,
but your burn carries the memory of hurt, healing, and action.
Let it smart till your heart finds the salve it needs.
Let it burn till the flame no longer breathes.
How are you doing with your poem-a-day journey? I have been writing, but offline. Sorry I haven’t kept you all in the loop, but you’re getting to read the best ones.
I write about fire a lot. Do you think this would be a good theme for a collection?