Meet me under the old pine tree
when the sun is about to set
the sky meeting the color of your frozen hands
let the cold air
seep into your lungs
let it remind you
that you are
not the fire
you set to yourself
let me peel away
all the layers
show me all your burning wounds
and tell me every single story
tell me all about
how it set your guts on fire
when you saw your mother being hit
and you just stood there
unable to move
how you wanted to stop breathing
the day your father left
let me tell you
that it is not your fault
you think you are unlovable
as people leaving
is all you have ever known
- we all have our demons
and we may have to get with them.
so lay down
lay yourself beside me
and let me tell you about
great forestfires
let the grass soak you
let it mend the pain
and let me tell you
that this is not beatiful;
it is not beatiful
to burn down the forest
you live in
after the great devastation
you have to pick it all up
rebuilding ruins
recreating
let me tell you to
plant flowers
and pines
for your demons
are playing hide and seek.
we blame it on our youth -
lest we are setting forestfires
but
eventually
we can fix our shallow minds
and impulsive hearts
leaving only traces of what we were
finding little parts of former selves
in extinguished forestfires.