The Living Prose and Poetry Book of M.L.Michael/Potato Mike
Hearth Necromancy
The fire went out sometime during the night.
With your back turned and your mind lost in the weeds of slumber,
the fire in your hearth went out,
and its only hours later, when the warmth has slipped out of the room,
that you shiver awake and instinctively reach out for something not there.[…]
Hearth Necromancy
The fire went out sometime during the night.
With your back turned and your mind lost in the weeds of slumber,
the fire in your hearth went out,
and its only hours later, when the warmth has slipped out of the room,
that you shiver awake and instinctively reach out for something not there.
The darkness feels heavier when you wake,
so heavy you cannot shrug it off like the comforter that now falls to the floor,
and the floor is not lava when your toes touch down,
if anything it is now ice, and you feel another shiver consume you,
so you shrug off everything but the darkness, and shuffle your way to the hearth.
When you kneel, everything hurts; the cold penetrates and aches in your bones.
You sift through the ashes and coals, searching for anything still holding some warmth,
and eventually you see it, nestled in the center, like a pfenix egg – it is still smoldering.
There it is, you know what must be done, no matter the hour, no matter the energy,
You will do your best to revive the fire that went out sometime during the night.
04/30/2021
M. L. Michael