lies a molten fire of ancient tongues,
whispered in shivers
and unremembered dreams.
Blistered by the truth of the burn,
forgotten skin surrenders
to the secret rhythms of voices in veins.
Embers of thought and feeling
as the fingers of now
reach for the scorch.
(note-I wasn’t very happy with the first version of this poem. It was one I had struggled with from the beginning, and after I had posted the original, which was really just a draft, I continued to work on it, knowing there was something better in there waiting. This is it. What do you think?)