The Resurrection
Let the tower in your city burn.
Let the steps to the shadowed building
by the lake burn
even though it is made of stone.
Let the lion house burn
so that the roaring and burning
will be heard together.
Let the old, poor, wooden house
where I lived go up in flames,
even though you returned
and sat on the steps that led
up to where we used to exist.
Let it all burn,
not to destroy them,
but to give them the life
my life gives to them now.
To make them flare
as they do in me,
bright and hot,
bright and burning.
Linda Gregg
Posted over on Poemhunter
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