from the embers

glowing in the dark forest

from the dimming raging flames—

the ashes of my heart emerge

he picks it up

cradles it inbetween

his hands. like treasure.

delicate.

he moulds and shapes

the lump of grey ash

curves the edges until the

sharps edges are gone

pats it with the tips of his

fingers till the cracks are filled

and when its done

he places it in the hole

of my chest

and with a pulse

and with a thump

I am whole again.

thank you.