Holding some wood,
Strikes against a rough edge,
Flashes for a second,
Lights the match,
Fires up brightly,
Then the hand,
Hits the flame,
Then it spreads,
Burning up nicely,
Scaring up meanly,
Healing up quickly,
Fixes all the wounds,
Nothing is left,
For people to see,
Because of the gift,
Which fixes everything,
On our broken and,
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Oh my goodness, I am so dense... I see that the flame does cause the wound... and so it all comes together for me now. I'm sorry for not reading it properly the first time around :) Keep up the good work!
I like this poem very much... what starts as one idea is translated to another level of meaning, yet I'm left wondering if the spark and the scar are related? Does the fire cause the wound in the first place? Not that you need to tidy everything up in a 'pretty little package', I simply find this to be thought provoking. And I really like the short little bursts of words. Keep on expressing your heart as God flows through you onto the page!!! Glory to God!