Written by Dennis Harvell
The Fire and the Mirror
You wanted me to be a pillar.
Something solid to lean against while you shook the foundation.
And when the concrete finally fractured under the weight,
You pointed at the dust and blamed the architecture.
But a foundation doesn’t break from a single storm.
It breaks from the quiet, unaddressed tremors.
I am no longer repairing walls I didn’t break.
My sovereignty began the moment I stopped holding up
A ceiling that was designed to collapse.
