Molten

Or how to ignite one’s nature

Found here

Have you ever stood at the root of a volcano?
Tiny grains of mauve sand stuck between your toes and that
Raging warmth each second higher, a degree per step,
Until it’s impossible for you to keep standing and your
Body just wants to give in because it is weaker and colder.

My heart resembles this imminent eruption, and I’m standing
Although I feel the trembling and hear the rocks banging against each other.
My bird-like thoughts are scared, flying in circles knowing something’s not 
Quite right but no idea what’s wrong and where to run. 
There’s flocks at my kidneys, two stray doves beaking my intestine and
A pitch-dark raven in my stomach, stealing my strength and refusing to leave
Because I owe him a safe nest and this is the best I could ever give.

My plumbing’s too narrow for such pressure so the leakage is inevitable,
Coming out as words, as stumbling in obstacles that are not there, 
As forgetfulness because my line of thought scapes to give space 
For my breathing, for the hardware repair needed and the cleansing
After the birds and all the wild animals scolded me for not stopping
The collapse of my own nature.

All those precious things I’ve been treasuring are at risk,
Because not a single room of my being can shut the doors for
The outburst of my heart, when it decides it needs release.
And, as inflammable as I am, I fear the only remaining will be a gunpowder
Outline of a person, burnt to the ground, hands shut on a sprout, 
Almost dry but still alive, eager to flourish.