I end up delivering babies for the first week as physician. Then I stitch cuts and allocate cold medicine.
Inside me, the fire burns. I think it seeks an outlet. Sword play doesn’t slake it. I try to stem it, coax it down to a slumber. But the earthquake has awakened it. The earth movements and the fire are linked. I am both fire and earth.
I roll the words in my mouth, noting how textured they are.
Fire and earth.
Earth and fire.
Fire in my eyes.
Fire in my heart.
Fire in your eyes.
Fire in your hearts.
Hard to keep the fire
I have a fire heart.
The City Council has stated in no uncertain times that I am too young to be a healer. At the same time, they tells me I have an “young child of uncertain parentage”.
What has complained about me?
One of my patients?
I am angry and upset by the turn of events.