It is in my heart to cry,
But barren is my eye,
A smoldering fist in my chest,
Snatches the tear,
That would fall silently by.

It is in my soul to scream,
More questions than answers seem,
Obsidian steam builds in my chest,
And slashes my resolve to dream.

It is in my heart to die,
But life presses and pulls nearby,
Unwilling to relent its hold,
Clenching my soul,
Its hand strong and dry.

So on I go,
Wake the day new,
Move again, with tender steps,
Smile, laugh,
Press the moments through,
And work to squeeze a glow from,
The cold within my chest.

(c) Copyright 2006, Greg Sanders