Katrina Kaye

It is only from ash
that new wings can emerge.

The smug of soot
on forehead offers
the cleansing of fresh feathers,
burnt orange against blue eyes.

We are ready to ride onward,
watch the slouch
of Bethlehem’s beast
and feel the curve of shoulders
as they hover
over the clouds of
yesterday’s thunderstorm.

The flash of lightning
stuck us to dirt,
so let us flare like red bird,
let us track skies uncharted and
rip apart
dark formations that blot out sky.

Let the innards leak,
release the flood and from the muck
watch creature birthed.

A second coming
hidden by the thick
of afternoon storm clouds,
casting shadows
on the tragedy of
yesterdays too clearly
remembered.

Let the past burn away,
let it pierce, cloud over, rip open.
Watch the carnage
a little a fire
can do when you stop
paying attention to the
change in temperature.

It is a only a matter of time
before wings once again open to sun.

“Phoenix” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014) by Swimming with Elephants Publications and The Legendary Issue 39,