Written by Emma Flynn
Art by Landon Paraenteua
dead, dying, will die. Your hands are charred beneath the fury of a tight-lipped girl
who was never meant to escape the fire. what survived but a man swathed in oil;
he is more animal than human, more boy than father.
he is no lamb, feral thing he is. blessed are those who hunger
and thirst for righteousness, he whispers between bloody sips,
for they shall always hunger.
who lit the fire? a match is just a match until it’s struck,
a girl is just a girl until she’s not. there were times that the father was
kind and good and you prayed to him on holy grounds,
and there were times that he strapped himself to your chest and called you home.
a lamb cannot be an ewe- a child cannot be a mother.
there are things you did survive: the burning, the aching.
there are things you never could.
you were born for the weight of the world to drag you down-
you were born for fire to feel like love.