unexpectedly I suddenly needed to write a poem

silhouette of erupting volcano during night time

I wasn’t going to write anything tonight but isn’t the muse just like that sometimes.


how can I tell you of my rage
the holy fire that makes and unmakes me
twin flames in my eyes reflected
I scoop out my own heart and hold it aloft
look what they have done to me
black where it should be red
death where there would have been life

how can I tell you of my rage
years of simmering my saltwater tears
over coals burning my need into ash
the water of my life splashing on hot stone
sizzling, disappearing
steam that blisters the skin

you said and you said and you said
did you forget how to ask

how can I tell you of my rage
lying dormant as a sleeping volcano
cracking up through rock and earth
tears like lava burn my skin
my voice is ragged
lungs full of smoke try to give me breath

how can I tell you of my rage
I eat only my own self
I drink only the rain
the bridges already burn, too late to cross
there is no place for me
and so scream brilliant white light into darkness
to make a place where only I can go

do not follow me there

featured photo by Toby Elliott on Unsplash

Nix Kelley
Co-parent to multiple kids. Writer. Death doula. Member of the Order of the Good Death. Seeker on the Path of Light. Queer, non-binary, & trans.


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