Trial by Fire

By: Albert Huffstickler

Photograph: Dorothea Lange

Loneliness is a cold flame
that flays the soul.
When you pass through the fire
you know things then
no mortal man should know.
You're Lazarus come from the dead
living among men with
your death still on you, 
knowing too much to ever have a friend,
a broken building with lights left on
sagged against the sky, mortally wounded. 
You'd thought that by enduring
You'd come to peace and reconciliation,
warm hands. 
You come instead to a place 
where no one's been
and stand in the starless night
hands to your face
and no strength left, 
lost from man and unknown to God
and no way back. 
It's then you know
you must make a place for yourself
of dry bones and anguish, 
wring light from the substance of your will
and hope from the bone-dry earth. 
It's then you know 
that the only chance you stand
is to forge a star
out of your living breath. 

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You can find this poem in Albert Huffstickler’s phenomenal book — Why I Write in Coffee Houses and Diners: Selected Poems