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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
