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Poetry

If I were a candle

Large, layered, with three wicks.
Wicks not infused, but drenched
In essential oil of the essence
Of growth. The braided cotton
Ignites by knowledge from within.
Each layer of wax contains handpicked
Ingredients plucked at their peak
Ensuring delectable aromas flood the air.

Layer one, first introduced to prospective buyers.
Blank, pure…bland.
A blend of wet lemon grass and eucalyptus
Mixed in with cooled lotus petals.
An appearance so bare with a fragrance so serene
The mind calls on freshly pressed linens in memory.

Layer two is the bulk of glee.
Finally past the surface one greets the real meat.
The heart, reeks of beautiful disaster.
Subtle whiffs of the quiet of a hurricane
Accompanied by the unshakable aroma
Of the crackles in lightning at midnight.

Layer three, the brilliant pit.
Rarely discovered kaleidoscopic hearth
Where this conceiver of light
Shelters its shimmering sacred soul.
The fusion labeled “estuary” in the description
Sticker at the bottom of the glass packaging.

Fresh water youthfully melted
From infant snowflakes running down
Caraca’s cathartic, cool mountains.
Encircled with the crisp salted air
Of Varadero’s beaches. Where thick red clay
Evolves into liquefied sapphires.

The skin is carefully crafted.
Imported tinted glass clothe the
Star in a jar. It’s fragile casing
Protective, revealing its content
With clarity only after each layer is
Successfully melted away.
Layers direct the glass. Choosing
Which part of itself will be vulnerable.

Like this post? View similar content here: The Endless Cycle
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by Elizabeth Ferrer-Alfonso

College student from Miami, FL majoring in Journalism. An aspiring writer obsessed with poetry, all things metaphysical, spirituality, and latinx/hispanic empowerment.

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