| Stigmata of fire... Striving for some pinnacle, I fall as well as any angel Screaming to earth On burning wings. No arms to catch me, I must heal my own Charred flesh, Leaving scars That last. Stigmata of the fire That has tempered me Leaving behind something finer On the earth Than the flawed being Who once flew too close To the sun. By Xia Harria Comments? Click here to email comments about this poem. All Rights Reserved February 2005 |