men, poetry, work

Eastern Standard Tribe

In tailored armour

Black circles underneath

Our eyes,

Voices raw from persuasion

We soldier on

Warmed by the light

From close-held goals

The world asks us

To bear in silence

The wounds it inflicts

And through them

We mine for wisdom

Strength and substance,

We nod to one another

As we pass by

Onto the next battlefield

Carrying the remains with us

And leaving no man

No woman

Behind

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