home is where the hearth is: 

embers burning bright and strong

I strive to keep them alive, blow gently on the ashes

while the crickets chirp

all night long

the “great” gods:

they rely on my warmth

yet they push me aside in the light of day

look to the golden boy for sight

and I become the forgotten custodian of the fire

there’s no need for flames 

when the sun burns bright

but when darkness encroaches

when the winter tires helios out

those “great” gods

they inch ever so slowly

closer to the unruly 

flames — flickering, flashing, and casting

shadows on the walls

light reaches all the halls

because of me

the whole home is aglow

light bending every which way

as smokeless tendrils of fire 

so desperately try to grow

and we patter around

aimlessly so

until the coals turn cold

letting the dying flames tell us

where to go

Kath Shelden (fae/them) is a fledgling poet, essayist, and fiction writer from Kenmore, Washington. They are a third-year Creative Writing major and Book Studies minor at Oberlin College. When not writing, fae can usually be found frolicking around fields, reading about folk tales, creating whimsical ceramic teapots, or dancing to David Bowie or Fleet Foxes in faer room. Their work often touches on disability, queerness, childhood, and loss.