Her Ashes and Her Soul

You extinguished her flame

with the cruel crushing of your hand

Blaming her for the burns on your fingers and palms

and then dared to ask why she no longer glows

while you complain about the stench of ashes left in her joy’s wake

You dangle the promise of the flame in front of her

each time she attempts to rise

Only to shame her when she dares to accumulate a shining fire

And then you express your disappointment at the stark cold radiating from her

after you’ve made warmth impossible, scaring it away

No confidence without arrogance, she learns

No self acceptance without loneliness

Thank God she embraces the void

Deep, dark and beautiful

Adorned in the company of stars

Birthed by pieces of her soul

No matter how many times they extinguish the external flames

Painted by the hand of her soul

on various canvases to be perceived

Her eternal soul persists

the source can never die

Never gone of light, never gone of dark

Enamored by the late evenings and its moon

communing with her stars,

inpsired by the day and

basking in the warmth of the sunlight welconing her creative floursihging

attuned throughout the night

Her soul is her soul

No matter rejection, no matter acceptance