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
gone,
our spirits are
strong.
We climb,
we reach
our withered fingers
into the sky,
and sing the song
no man can
silence.
Though few may
hear,
we will sing
for those listening.

8 thoughts on “High Spirits (A Poem)

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