I am obsessed with found poems. This one was birthed out of fragments from “Our New Lives” by Helen Coats out of One Teen Story, Issue No. 53 and a quote from Burial Rites by Hannah Kent:

“we are all candle flames, greasy-bright, fluttering in the darkness and the howl of the wind, and in the stillness of the room I hear footsteps, awful coming footsteps, coming to blow me out and send my life up away from me in a grey wreath of smoke i will vanish into the air and the night.”



go in right now against the surge of emotion
come clean, apologize and ask forgiveness
abandon the thought of invincibility
the conviction of a safe landing

to bless and receive blessing
accept the awful coming footsteps
the blowing out of light into the grey
the greasy-bright fluttering in darkness

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