The Phoenix

The Phoenix
Interwoven oak branches
scrape against the skin,
lie in the dark, listen to
depressed rain drops bounce
from barren tree limbs,
lie in the dark, feel like dying.

Sunlight lamps shut off,
sleep in the day, or is it night?
lie in the dark, not caring…
heart pain burns, spreads
weep, hairs wilt in heat
lie in the dark, skin set afire.

Burn away
the tears on the edge of the eyes

Burn away
the metric tonne on the chest.

Burn away
the ice grips along the spine.

Burn away
the agony, burn away the dark.

Open the dust painted blinds,
let the sun stretch fingers inside,
rise, repaired, heart sewn together,
turn the door knob, walk out,
feel mud percolate between naked toes
rise, revived, kiss arctic air currents.

Wash feet in dew tipped grass,
stretch arms to embrace the sunlight
rise, restored, sing with the wind,
listen to the rooster crow
welcome back to the living,
walk to dawn’s gold red temple
rise, reborn.

Copyright © 2015 Nathan Tompkins.

Nathan Tompkins retains all rights to this work, granting Fickle Muses one-time, non-exclusive electronic publication rights. Please contact the creator to request permission for reprints or other uses of this work.

Poetry,