They Are Like Fire

I will never understand the allure
Of charred skin,
That we receive by
Dancing around swallowing flames.

Do we not listen to our ancestors
Deep in our souls?
They call out in wonder,
Why must we do this?
This is not our fire.

These flames are nowhere for
Human hearts to dance,
And I cannot fathom yet
Why we must –

I do not know, I do not know.

Perhaps there is beauty in
The pain we all feel,
A common ground
Where we are one and the same.

I do not know, I do not know.

I, too, have felt the charred skin
Like hands creeping up
Around my throat –
But yet I dance.

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