The fires of denial have all been extinguished and
The wolves of hurt are gnashing, tearing, and ravaging,
Their prey, an unrecognizable lump of fear and anguish
Now unprotected by fire from the razor-sharp pain,
The attack rips away layers of cures worse than the disease,
Leaving behind what was always there:
My heart, the charred, scarred anchor of my soul,
Beating once again, though softly, timidly, and afraid.
Though no longer feeding, sometimes still I
Hear the howling, see the dark eyes, redly shining.
Yet the light comes to chase away the shadows and
The shadows come to provide rest and rebirth, while
Faintly as counterpoint to all that came before
My heart begins to gently sing a joyful song.
The phoenix is and can only be a symbol of the heart
Oh, my beautiful heart, you too shall soar again.