submitted by shanta lee from the fire session

as a child, i was always warned about playing with fire but that never kept me from playing with matches even at the risk of getting caught.  this piece is an ode or homage to my wild fire from its voice.  if your wild fire spoke to you, what would it sound like?  what would it say?

i started this love letter long before a lifetime was stitched together for you

yet we have always belonged to each other

 

i hid in the brokenness of your relationships

as i watched you break in the arms of every he

showed you the wholeness of such damage

 

indeed i left what you call delicious bruises upon your skin

in fact you tell the world that you wear them proudly, but do you really?

you have yet to discover the tattoos

the braille

the bimini road i’ve left imprinted within the depths and layers of your being

 

sometimes you catch glimpse of me

in between the wrinkles of the sheets

through the kiss of the lover that has arrived

to the last touch of the sister who is leaving you

i am already your catacomb

buried deep within the memory of your womb,

but do feel me?

 

you are here

so i don’t need to extend the invitation

you know my name

because you‘ve properly called yourself by it many times

 

you know that i hold you

and cradle you close

especially when you’ve felt like

staying

sitting

and being with me has become the

much

pain

hurt

heat

heartbreak you can’t bear

 

i seek you out through every word

spoken or written

every image you see

hip gyration, saunter and rear round flesh jiggle

as my fingertips touch you,

do you awaken to me?

as i call you,

will you come to me even if tit is through the dark i lead you?

when i whisper to you,

will you, write, dance, create your truth?

 

 

i live in your walk

in between your silences and your noises be they whimpers

cries

screams

and silence

behind the eyelids and pupils of those brown eyes

dreaming

awake

dazed

sleep

and otherwise

i life upon the surface of your skin
and beneath the scabs of your wounds

you call yourself my chalice, my vessel, my container through which i fill
but i am asking for you to let the oxygen from your

spirit

soul

and breathe kiss me so that i my be your proper wild

without explanation nor apology

i’ll keep you true

keep you honest

keep you glowing from all your want and passion

keep you indefatigable

keep you holy

keep you sacred

are you ready for me to

bathe you in my ash?

fill your lungs with my smoke?

are you ready for me to

birth you

baptise you

breathe you

heal

you?