Firebird

Only in that sunless realm between asleep and awake 

Will I find you, the shell of my former self, crumpled and

Lifeless, huddled in the darkest corner, two tattered wings 

Sprouting from shriveled flesh, cracked and splintered 

Like the decaying skin of a porcelain doll left forgotten. 

I watch as you gracefully unfurl those battered wings, one 

At a time, notes of dust cascading from the infinitesimal 

Hairs lining their moth-eaten surface. A network of veins 

Traverses them, like lightning shattered across the skin, 

Electricity pooling in the beds of your nails, bitter and acrid. 

Sparks emit from your wingtips, lighting up the room in a 

Shower of white and blue flame, molten as it glides over 

The ground, fingers of shimmering fire caressing your body

Like the ardent embrace of a lover, something you were 

Cruelly deprived of in life, but have now mastered in death. 

I watch as you begin to levitate, toes brushing the rotten floor.

You climb higher and higher, an incandescent glow forming

In your core, radiating outward, a magnetic ball of flame bracing 

For eruption, as you are bathed in rebirth, rising from the ashes

Like a phoenix, the fabled firebird obscured by myth and legend. 

An inferno dances in your eyes, two mirrors of the soul, sheathed

In broken glass, a reflection of myself staring back, as I feel the 

Jagged and seeping chasm in my chest stitch itself closed, the 

Needle guided by your hand, the thread spilling forth from your 

Mouth, as we slowly merge, the past mending with the present. 

Audra Burwell