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Fighting -- poetry by Zachary Powell


With the growing days, it’s supposed to get better

Fresher

New

The world keeps turning

But the hours just get longer.

The minutes shorter.

The seconds lost.

Like reaching into an endless river.

The fish you seek

As fleet as the dreams lost after rest.

Gone.

But you didn’t rest, did you?

The world said “fight”

And so you picked up your

Spear hurling at the rocks below,

The tip has dulled from your continued attempts.

But in the water, at a glance, you see your

Fist, without a target.

Lost.

The days keep going, but each night at dusk

In the forest around, your pierced

Chest, carrying the burden of living.

Strong enough to know its own weaknesses

To keep its own beating

Heart aching, as you endure an unseen enemy,

Who maybe

Just maybe


You can stop —

To keep itself —



 

Zachary Powell is a high school student in the New England Area. This is his first publication in this, or any, journal. He loves and practices all forms of art including painting, woodburning, performing arts, and of course poetry! He would like to thank LW for encouraging the submission of this work.


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