Kindling rises.
Sadness eats the bright.
Wood → coal → ash.

Expectations burn—
joy becomes a black scrap.

Flames learn the wind;
memories linger like dust.

Out of sight, they go;
not out of me.


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2 thoughts on “Revisionist Poetry – Out of Sight, Out of Mind?, v.3 – brevity

  1. This poem is spare and powerful, using fire as a quiet, devastating metaphor for emotional transformation. The progression from wood to ash mirrors loss with striking clarity, while lines like “joy becomes a black scrap” and “not out of me” linger long after reading. Its restraint is its strength—each image feels deliberate, weighted, and honest. A deeply moving reflection on how sadness consumes brightness yet leaves memory smoldering beneath the surface.

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