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The Fire Beneath Her Silence
They said
she imagined it–
that flicker in her spine,
like a vow whispered
between the bones,
a hush older than memory.
no temple,
no mantra,
no saint's breath on her shoulder–
just a silence
that split her
softly
like dawn splits shadow.
something rose–
not seen,
but felt,
like a secret carried
from life to life,
finally unfolding.
it wasn't light,
not yet
it was heat
that knew her name.
each breath shimmered,
each thought dissolved
until she wasn't girl or name
but wind,
and flame,
and everything in between.
was it fiction?
maybe.
but the fire didn’t lie–
and neither did her eyes
afterward,
still glowing
with the memory
of being touched
by something
The world could not explain.
Copyright ©
Hira Fatima
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