When I wrote Can’t Curse the Fire, I was learning how loss can strip a life bare and still leave a strange, steady light behind. The same blaze that ruins you can also reveal the frame of who you are.
Can’t Curse the Fire
Awakened is the fire,
it consumed what I loved.
Awakened is the rose,
bloodless, alone, yet above.
I saw through the fire,
the meaning of what I declare.
A rose left unseen,
and burning and despair.
No joy in the game,
suddenly, yes, I grieve.
To be one with the spirit—
I saw the fire, believe.
From ash comes the knowing,
from loss, a clearer name.
I do not curse the fire—
it taught me why I remain.
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— A note from Xhale
When I wrote this, I was learning how loss can strip a life bare and still leave a strange, steady light behind. If these lines sit with you in that ash, I hope they make the silence feel a little less alone.
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Author’s Note
“Can’t Curse the Fire” was born from the uneasy truth that the same blaze that ruins you can also reveal the frame of who you are. Loss became a harsh but precise teacher, and I learned I could not wholly hate the thing that broke me when it also taught me how to stay.
