hearts on fire

A month back in our tropical island home, swimming in the warm ocean, browning in the hot sun - heart fires rekindled here at wonder |wander | world.  

I watch my daughter build a fire

not from a match or cigarette lighter

but from the original elements,

two sticks, a length of sinew, friction.

She has formed a cup of juniper shreds,

and when she spins out a black ember

and breathes it to life

she transfers the radiant pebble

into the nest and breathes again.

a collection of poems

Sparks fly from her lips.

A dove of flame bursts from between her hands.

She speaks to the spark

until the words catch and burn

and I think, here is my daughter

who is innocent of all things

yet from whose lips

the terrible and merciful

flame flies out, the truth, the fire.