those among us

the dark sea churns
and burdens the
strife within
us all-
each and every one
of us
burns in the black
confines of the soul,
stricken within
our grieving bones,
held and hurled
into the thick
of it all
by
torturous talons
of life and living,
ripped and reaping,
wrought and beguiled
until,
from the furnace,
we emerge
hardened
and as sharp
as any fang-
time beats down
upon our weary frames,
churning from us
a lecherous
longing
for war and redemption.
may the blood churn.
may the skin
fall from rapture
and boil
within the sick
of our deeds.
may the soil
feed from the thick
and blossom
flowers
from our filth.
may the baking sun
beat down
and heat the earth
where time forgets
our ignorance,
and lends only
compassion to
our memory.