In this version
when she was cold
she struck a match
not to burn a blossom
of remembrance,
but to flame the raveled
sleeve of care to ashes.

In this version
immolation was not
an option,
death was not
a proud rediscovery
of saity or grandmother
beckoning a better world.

In this version
she walked away
from the bonfire,
carried the ragged future
in strong stained hands,
vowing a tomorrow
of barefoot perseverance
beyond the wind's
gray scatterlings.

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byAngeline© 5 comments/ 3603 views/ 0 favorites

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