Barbara Pease

Blue Fire

Feel free, I tell thee!
The fire of your soul melts
the snows of Kilimanjaro.
Your ice capped ridges --
blue fire in heaven.

My fever rises.
I find heat in your joy.
Cold ice burns my hands.
Beauty is your poet --
tranquil fractured seconds
before a sunlit kitchen door,
the cry of an unborn child, and so much more...

You are gone. We cannot meet.
Those who care still weep.
Beyond sorrow, beyond grief
is the joy you seek.

God grants us all we need
to make our journey's end.