When my little girl fell in
To the fire pit and the skin was ash
On her legs and back,
At first I cursed the thing:
Let it lie there, I said, smoldering.
Boarded up and aborted,
Damned and abandoned.
And left to die forever
For all I care.
But in the waiting room with shaky hands,
Long before the awful panic passed,
I softened.
And I swore we’d put this all behind us,
And one day the fire pit would remind us
Not of this night only,
But of others after;
Of the innocent light
And the dancing laughter
Of little girls chasing fireflies--
So close the open flame;
So perfectly unafraid.
