Fighting -- poetry by Zachary Powell
With the growing days, it’s supposed to get better
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.
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.
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,
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.