Deception in the Fire

Have you ever touched burning fire?
No?
I have.
Or rather, I’ve been thrown into it again and again.
But every time, I was told: “This is light. This is love. This is your blessing.”
And when the smoke choked me, when my body burned and my soul tore apart—then I realized, this fire was deception.

I am the woman who has worn the shroud of dishonor countless times.
Sometimes in the name of marriage, sometimes love, sometimes promises of work, and sometimes just because—“You’re beautiful, worth spending time with.”
Did I not resist?
Did I not scream?
Did I not have a hearth of my own, where sacred flames of feeling burned?
I did. But every time, they shattered that hearth…
and placed my dignity in the center of the room.

I was taught that a woman is not a body, but a universe of emotions.
But every time I led those emotions to the doorstep of love,
the door opened—and inside, there was only a bed.
No relationship. No promise. No respect.

Do you know?
Pornography doesn’t just exist in films.
It hides in words, in glances, in compliments—even within some marriages.
And that is the fire that every age wraps in new illusions.
That’s why I say:

“This fire that burned every home, is never old—
In each age, it becomes a new story of deception.”

People often tell me, “You’re used.”
I laugh…
Because the men who used me never see themselves as “used.”
They bear no stain, no shame.
And I? I’ve had to sew my dignity back together again and again.

But today, I haven’t stitched that cloth.
Today, I’ve burned it.
Today, I say with pride—I’ve passed through that fire,
and now I know what love is… and what deception is.

Love is sacrifice, patience, the light of the soul.
And pornography?
It’s the smoke that suffocates that sacred flame.
It’s the shadow that falls over a woman’s honor,
and leaves her blaming herself for the rest of her life.

If you’re a woman, hear me—you are the light.
Don’t become fire.
And don’t let yourself be fuel for someone else’s flame.

If you’re a man, see the truth.
These bodies that invite you—they’re often screaming souls
who’ve forgotten how to say “no.”

I am the woman who burned—
But I no longer fear the fire that tried to consume me.
I write the truth now.
I don’t scream anymore—I write.

Deception in the Fire — This is my story.
And maybe… yours too.