The fire just went out in the hearth, 
As the pot, cold stares out the hut door. 
The wood burnt, yet nothing anymore 
Can tell the story of the flames it bore. 

Clean out the dust, clean it out! 
Our God is an awesome God who loves to see
Cleanliness in everything! Clean quickly
For Him to see how clean our feat

Even the darkened soot mud walls
Seem to cower and hide, lest one notices
That they witnessed the fire, that pieces
Of history reside in their crevices 

As webs dangle from the bamboo overhead, 
Darkened by that fire, slowly swaying 
In the windless silence of the day greying. 
The cold pot silently stares out the door. 

What pain put out the fire in the hearth? 
What self-glorification deceives in aspect, 
Forcing cleanliness, not as one would expect
By seeing the ashes, picturing insects
Dancing in the flames that made them 
Smoke rising, lighting the walls, 
A cacophony of color, noise, mayhem
Under the metal pot enthralled. 

What pain put out the fire in the heart? 
To deny the fire once there, to deny ashes, 
A mark of humus in the  very code of DNA, 
A hot pot changing the fruits of the day, 
Seeing God not in our earthly feats 
But directing our feet along His own way? 

What pain hides the fire from the heart? 
Lift the wood and live again, light a new flame
Light a new flame, and touch the ash. 

(c) nyonglema