High Spirits (A Poem)

Though you may
bury us,
we rise.
From ashes and mud,
blood and bone,
we remake ourselves
from the sand
and the stone
that covered us,
smothered us.
Though we are
our spirits are
We climb,
we reach
our withered fingers
into the sky,
and sing the song
no man can
Though few may
we will sing
for those listening.

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