Can’t remember the match, just the magic of the fire
We were both oddly lured - a forbidden desire
Eyes glued to the flame.
Was it fire we blamed?
Or that childhood game?
So miraculously sacred with fear mixed inside
I was age seven, Joey was five.
Strike one, blow it out. Strike two and strike three..
The flame was in charge of him and of me.
We heard someone coming
The fourth match was lit
Joey afraid, he grabbed onto my wrist
“Hide it in here!” and he covered the flame
With the top of his ‘jammies’
And the terror began.
So much more to this story
All the lives it touched sorely.
A Karmic Event, throwing life one more blow
The strike of a match so long, long ago
The ripple of waves it left in it’s tow
There are people in heaven
Who really do know
Every blessing that match caused
With it’s powerful glow.
For me it’s still baggage
And I miss Joey so....
Copyright © karen feist | Year Posted 2008
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