My Hand On Fire

Are you truly so surprised
to learn that my hand 
bursts into flame
a few times daily,
and that I have learned 
to shut out the pain
and move on?
You shouldn’t be.
This is old hat
to many
who are
torched so often, 
so casually.
We learn it early and well
or we die
young, curled up
in our own ashes.
Do not mistake
apparent ease
in handling it
as a form of
acceptance.
We still
hurt, we still
now and then
scream with the hurt,
still have problems
with grip and 
feeling — and for me
at any rate, woe

unto those who offer
to shake my hand
while still holding
a burnt match, for

I will accept.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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