Many fireplaces, the âtres are closed up, or no longer used.
The heat in them has become dead, black.
Now they are home of the anguish of what is lost
Everything that was said but cannot be

The âtre has been taken over by television, the computer
Around which meals are set, conversations spoken to under breath
There are no placing of coals or firewood
Watching the embers climb and with it wishes

I come to the fireplace to express this agony of dialogs
Unspoken, passion expunged,
Expressing the violence the pain the humanity
That now lies hidden.

The fire that brought us out of caves
That gave us life through winter
That brought bread to our table
That became the altar of our hopes and prayers