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A Drifter Seeking Refuge
I was a moth,
a drifter,
seeking refuge
in the scorching blaze.
Destiny's jaws dug
deep into my hands
each canine like a nail
hammered into my palms
clasping onto my flesh
before tugging me away
from the frivolousness of
frantically frolicking from
flame to flame
to gulp flickering
feral sparks
to quench my thirst
Jet-black drops of
wax drip down
cascades of stained glass
as a Gregorian choir
made up of
a thousand icy sopranos,
begin belting in unison and
rattle my tabernacle into place.
Lo! I am now
a waxen candle,
immolating myself
every lash of the whip
mercifully imprinting
my wrinkled skin before
I set myself
ablaze in the afterglow
born of an invisible spark
Copyright ©
Shiraz Bautista
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