THE COLD FIRE

What venomous words have I not heard?

What throat-slicing threats have I not met?

What insecurity haven't I felt?

What thoughts haven't kept—

me in bed washing my sheets and pillow in tears

What sourness haven't I tasted?

What, what thing of pain am I not familiar with?

You've walked me through fire,

Pulled me through flames

So let my heart rejoice.

I've once been burnt to the core

like red cedar wood in fire which transforms—

into ashes.

I've passed through this process so tell them

That the fire I walked through have already burnt me into ashes

and ashes will no longer burn in fire: they quench fire.

You've walked me through fire,

Pulled me through flames

So let my heart rejoice

This is how I've been made:

resistant to fires

because I'm no longer unaware of 

how the pains pain, 

how the words hurt,

how they come

Come on! There is no heat now.

The coldness of the heat is as that of a glowing snow.

They only pass chills down my spine

You've walked me through fire,

Pulled me through flames

So let my heart rejoice

My vulnerability is burnt

And I put on strenght.

Let ashes meet fire

and see who overcomes.