Linda M. Crate- A Poem

flame 

her silhouette marked with sadness 

slouched over, eyes burning with the tears 

of a thousand stars, shoulders hunched 

all i can offer this stranger is a smile and 

hope it's enough to chase the demons away; 

i will teach these lungs air, willing them 

to breathe; exorcise this coffin of bones — 

let the pain inside you die or else it will consume 

you into nothingness, the same oblivion 

from which dead dreams are destroyed; 

in some solitary field we stand 

nothing more than drifting snow, and her tears 

seem colder than the ice of which i slid 

and fell breaking all my confidence a year ago — 

i should have grabbed her shoulders, told her that she's 

worth more than a thousand stars dotting the 

indigo black of the heavens night; 

however, i merely watched her disappear into 

the obsidian of a starless night, 

saw her drive out of the parking lot 

wondering if she made it home all right — 

sometimes i wish i were brave enough to be the flame 

i was born to be instead of this candle i insist 

upon never giving up.