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Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

Tag

flame

Though He Slay Me

The hackberry chars, but will not burn.
It turns its back, defiant to the fire.
It won’t be lost to ember and to ash,
it lasts beyond the pyre.
It will be itself, and nothing less –
if greyed and shriveled from its form.
It says that living wood is best
and will not be reborn.

The birch erupts to instant flame
and fumes – it burns a golden bright
and is consumed. It flings itself
in flakes against the night
and breathes full to its core. The pain
of crumbling is barely more
than life, and for
all its ash and ember, it is nothing less
than light.

Burning

Burning.PNG

Something about a Candle

There is something about a candle.
So patient, and so calm
Slowly, softly, just existing
So frail, and yet so bright and merry
Fiercely burning, for the small life that it has
Bringing light and warmth
And sweet-smelling joy
Only gives, only provides, for its time is short

– s. Clark

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