Fire Carved My Name

This is not a story of survival by grace. It is survival by fire. Some names are not spoken—they are forged, seared into silence, and carried forward through smoke and flame. This piece is a rising from the ashes that no one else cared to witness.

I was not shaped by mercy.

I was hammered from sorrow,

drawn through the breath of flame

that fed on forgotten bones.

The world turned its face.

The fire did not.

It swallowed their cries,

their salt, their songs

and carried them forward in me.

Not ink,

not water,

not blood

Only Ember writes me.

You boast of storms.

I am the forge.

You drown in floods.

I stand where rivers die.

My name was not given.

It was branded, sealed,

In the silence after the burning.

Fire carved my name.

And through your smoke,

I rise.