Flame - A Sestina (Poetry)

I’ve heard of too many a soul-filled fire,

nicknamed passion but in truth just peace

before a tragedy. What a miracle, to be—

one day the flame will flicker, cease

to burn with its spite-fueled desire.

One day we all, like soft sighs, will tire.

But I will never tire

of grief, no shots they fire

could ever dare desire

to ruin this fragile piece

of memory. Never cease

me to remember. To be.

I’ve tripped too many times in a world that will never be

on our side. Remember? They were spinning around in a tire

swing, smiling—children. Remember? Their laughter will cease,

too, one day. Too many lie dead in the streets. We hold our fire,

our roaring rage. Remember? It is a resolute, resigned peace

we hold. Storm-torn. A cold-cut polish of once youthful desire.

So ignorant, the desire

we once had to be

at peace.

To tire

of the gunfire

that will never cease.

But our dancing souls will never cease,

either—embrace that deepest, delicate desire

to burn, a billion brilliant sparks, a bonfire

that will light itself upon the war-torn world to be

remembered. We will march and never tire

of it. Take back our world. Reclaim our piece.

Fight for peace

& never cease.

We will never tire.

Our desires

will always be

burning like fire.

Let us never tire of this peace

we ache for, feed this fire & never cease

to remember. Never relinquish this desire to forever be.

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A sestina is a 39-line form of poetry, in which 6 end words are repeated in a specific order each stanza, culminating in a 3 line envoi.