Kindled Once More

Do not the ashes dream of flame again,
Though rain has sung their silence sorely through?
The buried coal beneath the sodden plain
Still hums of suns it knew.

The heart, long-hollowed, hums that tune of old,
Where embers whisper names through ash and rain;
And in its dark the crimson breath takes hold,
And beats the night from flame.

Rise, little spark, from marrowed dust and grief,
The dawn shall learn your hopeful tongue anew;
The dead leaf turns, branch remembers leaf,
And root remembers dew.

For light begets its echo, flame its kin,
And grief, once named, grows gentle in the throat;
So burns the soul, reborn beneath the skin,
Alive, alight, afloat.

• Jay Rose Ana