Splitting Sun

Wednesday, January 20, 2021

Through a wrinkle in the fog
I see a warrior stumble forward.
Veins faded, yet incandescent in their march. 
The sun, sans the armor of midnight.
Fervor burns through his jaw, 
and he releases a piercing howl.
For he will care for the ground 
even if it means calluses and 
burning pavement. 
The haze crumbles to the 
fiery roars. 
Morning healed by the splitting sun.


This poem was published in the Winter 2020 Volume of The Aurora Journal.


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