Directive ghosts of individuation
Context — for all souls who have ever felt different.
The fire started burning round age eight
as if he meant to strike a different path.
It popped to flame from ember when sedate
as if aloneness solely solved the math.
He walked among the others, just like them
in thought and insecurity, in deed,
aware in no true way his forked brain stem
would from his wanted world make him recede.
For, louder than his voice there was a roar,
subsonic yet perceptible. Its slant
an influential contra-sweep of oar
against the river’s customary cant.
The years would force him soon enough enquire
if he could salamander be, not pyre.