I know

The flames didn’t curtsy

Before they kissed your feet.

I know they knocked down

The “highly flammable” sign at your feet

As they ran to you.

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Life roasted you whole

Without showing red triangles and skull symbols when you walked in.

You got no rewind buttons, no previews and no trigger warnings,

No soothsayers whispering in your ear.

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​

You walked right in,

Unaware of the lava resting beneath the sand.

The fire below did not ask for your blessing

Before drawing your toes in for an embrace.

It pulled the warmth in your soles into a toxic relationship

And tore at your skin.

But you didn’t burn.

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​

Day after day,

The earth kept reminding you

That it’s made of fire and dust.

It sent flames down your head from the sun.

Again and again,

You saw the sun rise,

But you didn’t burn.

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​

You still smell the smoke that singed the hair on your skin,

Your blood still boils within you,

And your heart still throws punches against your chest.

They are signs you are still alive,

And you didn’t burn.