Have I waited
for this heat
All my life
Or
Has hell been expecting me.
I knew my beauty
had to be burnt,
I had to be scarred.
Now, here:
Is this joy
at pain
I’m feeling
Or
Is it pain
at joy?
Am I being purged
Or
Am I burning?
Are my wings
melting into the earth
Or
Is my bud
flowering?
Has the fire heated
my plume red
Or
Is it that my heart
has found all its passions?
Am I embracing my pyre
Or
Am I putting it out?
Is my burning for real
Or
Why don’t I wake up
soon?
Is somebody watching my “firing”
Or
Is the fire within me,
invisible, burning?
& then, now:
Am I rising,
Or
Am I escaping?
Am I towering
above the flames
Or
Am I a part of the flame?
Now, carrying it in me…
Have I screamed
My last cry,
Or
Was that the
Cry of a new born?
Me
And
My phoenix-like rising.
