To Carry, Without Being Consumed

I am the one who aches to save,
and the one who hungers to burn.

I am the open hand,
and the clenched fist.
I am the soft voice,
and the scream.
I am the healer who wants to mend the world,
and the storm that wants to tear the lies to ash.

I do not have to choose.

I do not have to be only light,
or only fire.

I can love without disappearing.
I can rage without losing myself.

I can carry the urge to hold it all,
without breaking my own back.
I can carry the urge to destroy,
without setting fire to my own soul.

I am allowed to step back.
I am allowed to rest.
I am allowed to be fierce and tender,
to save some,
to burn some,
and to leave some untouched.

I am the one who stands at the threshold,
who says: I am whole even when torn.
I am powerful even when tired.
I am fire and balm — and I am still here.