Fear, Walls, and Fiery Tales

I stepped up
to the mouth of the cave
my chest plated-
the flickering light
sparking
my curious compulsion
for heat.

Come to find
not some majestic dragon
as projected upon a dirt wall
but an angry ogre
whose tongue sparks
and lashes out like
new flames.

The smoke
thick and decrepit,
his heart rots within
while his rosy cheeks,
black lips and eyes a glow
at me.
Despite this
I know, I am safe.

He will never leave
his inner rage

for the stronger
light of day.
And I could feel the heat
from behind
beckoning me back
to a place without...



Artwork by Francisco Goya y Lucientes (1746-1828), 'Seated Giant' circa 1818, in Public Domain. 

Graves and Beds

Often times
of late
I sense I am
two steps,
three ridges back and
one unburnt bridge away
from living the prophecy
being held for me
in some place
I am afraid
to go out of the cave
without any possessions
fear seems rational
but staying
inside while the earth crumbles
around me
ends
one way
eventually
the choice is made
for and by us
evenhandedly
all or nothing
for better
or worse
flowers lie.

Painting by Calude Monet, 'Rounded flower bed', c. 1876 in Public Domain.