Votive

Don't light a candle for me. 

I need no hallowed tallow,

no wax attack. 

I am alight already.

My words are smoke. 

Fingers wick my words

from pain to page

where they are written in fire

and rise in coiling cursive,

cloven tongues of fire

that sit upon me 

while I utter prophecy 

in every language.

The promise I make is this:

I feel pain enough already

for all the numbness 

and all the apathy

of those who watch me burn. 

I feel love enough already 

for all the cruelty and hate

of those who condemn me.

I have truth enough already

for all the lies

of those who only speak

to get what they want

and all the grief and shame

of those who feign indifference

because they can't express

how they feel. 

Don't light a candle for me.

My beacon body burns.

The "I" you read here is a taper:

I am your votive offering. 

(RIP Ahmed Mansour 2025-04-08)