Lightning strike


A little flickering fire upon a hill

We’ve had our eye on for a while, until

It suddenly decides to be our fate,

Jumping the road with no fuel but its will,

Expanding to be sure that it engulfs us,

The way a snowball grows the more you roll it.

Can you not sense how personal it is?

It’s just for you, and you feel privileged,

For no one ever loved you more than this.

The fire does not incinerate you, though:

It sweeps you up into a safer space,

A heavenly zone above the hellish flames.

For nothing can kill us in our nightly dreams.

We go on as a soul . . . then wake with screams.


Poem by Allen Ireland

My poetry has appeared in The Road Not Taken, The Lyric, and Red Planet Magazine. My first book of poems, Loners and Mothers, was published in 2017 (link follows), and my second book, A Sunray Lands in Syria, is slated to appear in June, 2021. None of the poems I am submitting to you have been previously published and none are under consideration elsewhere. Thank you for taking the time to read my work.