No Othering

We must sit alone through This
No one has our back

Not forsaking sunlight then
Nor the sturdiness of these vintage legs

Doors behind us closed, by intent
Facing East, where will our colors lead us

What mystery does the morning hold
What certainty does twilight promise

Special Ops

There is a needing
You know it
A posture we take
A state of mind
Revealing concession
In moments we’re defeated
So we think

Sit up straight, goddammit
Acknowledge the day
With legs long
Jaw strong
Forehead forward
Escape!
What imprisoning thought?