Merged with Fire, a poem by S Francis

The small candle’s wick-kindled flame
danced with shadows on the hearth,
its tiny soul, with a whisper of oxygen,
became the fire that warmed up winter
long in need of passing. An invisible day
became a visible night where the dance
was like overdue playtime for children
who thought night harvested darkness
when it longed for the merest flicker
to bend and sway, to arch its back.
So the shadows danced on the hearth
until a flame licked the softest of flesh
turning the ethereal into the real, a soul
so vast it reached across busy miles life
had filled with scars and stumbling feet
until on fire it merged with flesh, whole.

(C) Stephen Fuller, 2019