If All Else Fails

Remember, brother—

if all else fails,

burn it down.

When your gut knots

like a noose you tied yourself,

when the road splits into cages,

and every door shuts on your name—

you can always

burn it all down.

Not with gasoline,

but with the quiet spark

struck from your own doubt.

Let it catch the edges

of fears and labels that bind you—

paper promises,

wooden routines,

the brittle frame of fear.

Let it scorch the hands

that keep you small,

leave their claims in smoke.

Then walk through the heat unmarred,

heart rising like a phoenix

over blackened ground,

finally ready for seeds

you’ve never dared to plant.

Greener pastures wait past the fire line—

not promised,

but possible.

All it needs is the spark

you’ve always carried.

So remember, brother—

if all else fails,

burn it down.

And rise.

---

I wrote this poem for my brothers; for the moments when doubt curls in their stomachs, when they’ve outgrown old circles, or when a job, a relationship, or a version of themselves starts to feel like a cage. It’s a reminder that feeling stuck isn’t the same as being trapped. When the path narrows, when the door won’t open, they still have the power to level the ground, clear the dead weight, and choose a new direction.

If the pasture isn’t green, they can burn it back to soil and plant something better.