Jackie Lowe’s

And though the head
held high had faced
a thousand winters, and
the steady hand had waved
a thousand swords,
you dared to fight for
what they all worked hard
to destroy.

And your head dropped;
and your hand trembled.

You stood against monsters
who never stopped
rising from the ground;
And you never fell.

But when he traced your veins
with his fingers,
You wept.
For warmth had never touched you before.