I want the Fighting Spirit

When my day is raw and dark

When the shadows cling to my skin

When iron is lodged in my throat

And I can’t speak

So overwhelmed by the hills

Set high into the clouds

Above a world spinning cruelly fast…

I am such a wreck.

There’s nothing in me left to break.

Until one more thing breaks.

And yet if I am broken enough,

Like dough torn apart at supper,

More of my soul is taken in the light.