The Stumbling of Fire

You have stumbled in the dark,
fallen deep into the quarry,
scraped and broken in the cold November night.

You felt your blood,
its’ warm wetness calling to the predators
who care little

for your life or potential,
who see you only as food,
like coyotes in the night,

ravenous for your flesh.

But there is fire in you,
not yet extinguished,
stronger than the small spark

that they can barely see
in the dark night, stronger
than their hunger for destruction,

stronger
because it is not yours alone,
but of God, who loves

even the most broken of his creature.

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The picture was taken last night, looking up from my front porch, at the top of the slate quarry in West Pawlet that I named my house and my company for. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom