I have seen the end already,
in looking at you: I have seen the end
of what I am, fierce, and fiercely alone.
I have seen fire purge my scars and I know
the next step is being forced
to beat new life. You sweep through me
like an errant match, forceful wind:
it has been a long, dry summer.
I am readied for your coursing purge.
What is new growth but perpetuation of old patterns?
It is reassuring that my sins will come back to me
with harder shells and softer hearts.
They are food for the foragers, when they come.
Together we can break their fast.