The Phoenix
By Thomas Napela
It burns so bright, that painful sight, My people run away in fright, One-hundred-fifty years I sat in solitude alone, All twisted up and tangled with my body overgrown, And now the people run, while I watch my home ignite. My legs are rooted to the ground to keep myself upright, But I see the light grow closer, and my fate feels so unknown, The inferno creeps towards my legs, I cannot even fight, And it burns so bright. I stood there charred and burned that night, My people cried at such a sight. They took me in, called me their own, And from the ash a sprout had grown. And it burns so bright.
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