my heart is a burning wildfire of pain and conflict
a loud blare of frustration and alarm
a raging army of trumpets
marching against
their own breath, protesting
the vain efforts of their own harmony
building, calling, mocking, pounding, replaying
the horror of reckless heat and smoke
until at last they fizzle and fade
to a quiet ash heap
which is where you find my heart,
tracing your finger through its fragile powder
with a blessing, a scattering, a releasing to restorative peace

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