Hall of Flame

There is a hall of fame,
Markers lined on the entryway.

The lights are burning,
flaming as your steps tip its way,
craving for the door.

The door panes are burning,
flaming as your steps tip its way,
craving for the opening.

The opening is the birth,
gasping for its way,
craving for the air.

The opening is the birth,
Drowning in the amniotic ocean,
Drowning in the abiotic motion.

The familiar water we abluted with.
Each day.

Pray,
Each day,
the thirst is real.
The heat is the kind no one can heal.
The heat is the kind no one can steal.

There is a hall of flame
Ashes lined on the entryway of the house.
The familiar tears rained beyond the facade wall.

Did you make the trip?
Or did you fall?

For the victims of the fire.

Yogyakarta, 5th of March, 2015

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2 thoughts on “Hall of Flame

    • It’s heartbreaking to me how in a fire disaster, there would always be a presumption that the flame was intentionally made.. I want to believe it’s not true, but I can’t.

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