Walk into the fire.
Trust the flames not to hurt
If they aren’t hot.
Seize the moment when your breath
Has all gone out, waiting for pain,
To be the moment before your breath returns.
The beads of sweat
Are sweet and full.
There are no burns
That can take you whole.
Birth always hurts
But we must turn towards
The fireproof suit that we could own.
Find more of Eden’s work at Moth Traces.