Seven Fires of the Feminine - Chapter III - When I Remembered I Was Fire

By Parijat Pathak

It didn’t happen with thunder.

No divine trumpet, no celestial applause.

Just a small, insistent knowing—

that I was not made of silence,

but of spark.

My veins began to hum.

Every breath turned to kindling.

I walked through my own ruins

and felt warmth instead of ache.

What they called anger,

I recognized as resurrection.

What they named destruction,

I knew as birth.

I touched my scars and found embers.

I opened my mouth,

and the air caught light.

This was not rage.

It was remembering—

that the fire they feared

was the light they prayed for.

And I stood there,

not asking to be forgiven

for burning,

but for ever having dimmed.

Ash learns to inhale,

a star blooms beneath my ribs—

I become sunrise.

By Parijat Pathak