what shapes this
soul wounded

whether internal
tormenting storms
chemically bounded
socially nurtured

whether external
via circumstance
of bereavement’s
scar upon the heart

at times
in shadow’s wake
I bemoan, fidget
hoping it’ll soon pass

at times
sword I clasp
outstretched against
menacing clouds

at times
strengthened by
another’s story
I, in quiet, weep

knowing this
a story shared
is pain lessened
is hope garnered

so next time
during the fight
I brandish a shield
galvanized in familiarity

and win…

© 2012 by DC Lessoway