“There are parts of your story
that still scare you,” she said.
“We just need you to see that
walking toward the memory of fire
will not ignite you,
that there’s nothing to fear there.”
I want to believe it is true
that looking back
can illuminate some piece
that is missing some piece I want to see
but I do not want to.
It has not been so long since
I stood up from the ashes of my childhood
and brushed myself off.
The scent of smoke still clings to me.
My eyes tear up when I look backward
the way they do
when a person look through the fire.
I know I left it behind for a reason
and I know it scares me for the same reason.
I will leave it smoldering where it belongs
in the burned landscape of the past.