Made hard by life, by lack
Left alone to endure the cold places
Empty times when I trekked the storm blown plains
Plains of my own lost journey
When I was banished from my own existence
My own life
My own family
I, a stranger in familiarity
Known as the villain in my own saga
Challenged fate cursed the moment
Raised my fist to the sky
In the darkest of days , fear an enemy yet one the I dominated
As I stared down the hated gaze of my detractors
Shouted (Never!) To those wanton haters
That demanded submission, compliance
If I took a knee , it was in prayer
A prayer of strength
Of victory over the conquistadors of my belligerent adversaries
I will not go quietly
Surrendering to those who seek to author my fate, design my demise
I move forward against the bitter deluge
The violent winds
The angry sky
The storm is coming, the die is cast
War against the anarchist of my discontent inevitable
I stare into the tempest
My gaze locked on the future
As others falter in the progression of their moral intent
With my head up… my motivation, a righteous certainty
Endurance a surety
Embolden by my conviction
I Rise

An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe