The Heat You Hold

I never asked for the way your hands came together
Fingertips like match heads struck beneath the pines
Where the smoke stalks the clouds

I never asked for the fire that keeps us afloat
Above the water, above the cold, above the clay
When a clap snaps us from our seats

Hallelujah racing through our throats and chests
Above the cement rows, amphitheater of our days
Wicks to luminaries along your path

While you walk down the only flickering aisle
From altar of Once, to altar of Time, to light Eternity
With the heat you hold.

Sharing with The Sunday Muse for Muse #29  and with  Poets United for Poetry Pantry #428. Not sure where this one came from, so I'll just take it as a gift after being chilled a little too much yesterday while walking around a local Renaissance festival. Sometimes Texas is a little cooler (and more damp) than expected. Hope everyone has a great week & finds spare writing time. :)

-- Chrissa