She's Too Pretty to Burn

by Wendy Heard

We’re fire and night; we’re fury made flesh.

I placed my hand on the back of her tangled, sea-wet head. She was so many layers. One layer was sweet and shy. The next layer was dark and unpredictable. Under that, a layer of kindness and softness, and under that, a layer of fierce dominance. She was the ocean, with its riptides and its soft, clean breeze and its beauty and its chilling, shark-filled depths. “I could fall in love with you,” I realized aloud. The firelight flickered in the sky like Halloween.

I want to escape, but it’s me that’s the problem. There’s nowhere to go that I won’t also be.

I never thought much about birds, but now I think—I’d love to be one. Imagine the freedom of movement. They’re living in three dimensions while the rest of us are pinned flat to the earth.

Maybe I’m safe in this moment. Maybe there’s something to be said for just holding still and appreciating the simple beauty of birds in a blue sky.