Poem: Before the Burn

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Before the Burn

Pinch me.
Poke me.
Pull the bright barbed wire over my skin.
Watch me bleed,

But not as once as I once did.
My skin has grown thick with scars,
my blood boils, but not over.

I have learned the art of forgiveness,
of resurrection,
and how they are related,

blood brothers
singing hymns
as the fire rises on either side.

About this poem. 

Don’t ask me what this one means. The words just came.

The detail is from a painting called “Eckler #1” by an artist named Tim Eckler.

Tom

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