Aloft and placid against crushing waves I stand,
but fragile am I like fresh crushed snow.
Every moment threatens to become a melting point.
These wedges and curves, erected like a statue against the frame of the world
are not enough of a shell to brace the coming storm, I fear.
My frame is too weak to take the damage again.
My lungs too full of stagnant air that it hurts to breathe.
It borders my horizons in forms of towering figures and laughing faces
that swallow me like a tidal wave that throw me into the depths of my self doubt.
I am the exhibit
pinned down by the fear of my society because I have a voice
Strong and full of truth and ambition.
Yet, through all of the turbulence, I know where to find my center.
I know, though my body is weak, there is enough strength in me to stand.
To take the waves and the piercing stares;
To use those pins and needles to secure my footing as I spill my passions
Like fresh concrete over the stepping stones of human history.
My words will become the armor I need, even when this body fails me.
My spirit will be the mast that propels with all the obstacles into the pursuit of tomorrow.
This fire within me enough to reform my aspirations into action,
Like the dawning of a new age of liberation, and
I will forge myself through the storm and break its gamble against me.
It is never too late to pick up the pieces and rise from the ashes again.
Each time, with a tougher exoskeleton.