Liberty Stands; Fire at Hand

Why does your torch burn? 

The young girl asks, 

Pouting her lower lip in confusion. 

It is fire, 

The lady gently responds, 

Her voice hollow-- 

The voice that used to preach peace 

Had broken not too long ago-- 

While holding her torch 

To the sky.   

With the fire 

Bouncing off her pristine

Crown,

A searing flame jumps--

Grazing the little girl's arm.

The girl clutches her one bag

Just a bit closer,

Trying not to tremble,

At the mark,

Or let the tears fall

Since they cannot wash out the fire,

Or swim her through that poisoned sea.

But I thought you were to be what saved me.

The young girl starts to step back,s

As she speaks her thoughts.

Why?

Why is she is burned here, 

and there 

She is drowned? 

Where is the place 

She can rest her eyes

And find her cries

Met without furthering lies?