Fire: A poem by Jayashree Pillai

The smoke spirals upwards - grey pillars that scorn the
Bits of flint
That bore them,
Spurred on by heady flames
That dance drunkenly
In the breeze.
The flints burn - so do the
Charcoal bits and dry grass blades
That feed the flames
Unconditionally.
They die -
Along with the millions
That the enraged flames choose
To kill.
And yet I have seen fire
Soothe the trembling heart
In the midst of
A fearsome darkness.
Its ambiguity intrigues me.






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