You're the Fire

You’re not the martyr, you’re the fire;

On burning flame you waste your breath,

Yet you rail at me for calling you a liar.

Advent-candle kindling inspired

You to be a martyr to your health;

You’re not the martyr, you’re the fire.

You tie yourself to stakes and then inquire,

Innocently, why the world plotted for your death,

Yet you rail at me when I call you a liar.

You run from your home’s flaming spire

That you lit, making kindling of your wealth;

You’re not the martyr, you’re the fire.

You claim forked lightning, living mire,

You claim inevitable doom, like MacBeth,

Yet you rail at me for calling you a liar.

Stars danced and I sang you grace’s choir;

You stood, tall, proud, and gouged yourself deaf.

You’re not the martyr, you’re the fire,

Yet you rail at me for calling you a liar.