We are not all men here

BY M.S.

We are not all candles, persevering until the end

We are not all bound in the breach to refrain from weeping—

To reach out our hands to touch black thorns in the open field

Without any whisper of desolation or despair we plead for a frigid wind to whip us

To snap our blistered ears with cries of the frozen ocean

That we may awake from our stumbling daze and become men