The Battle

Poetry

Seems each hour 
I must fight
The sneaky beasts
That dim the light

Of hope. Like anger, fear
The constant “why,”
The nagging question,
Who am I?

Yet in this battle
To find my voice
What’s my fiercest 
Weapon of choice?

It’s love, of course.
Compassion, too.
Mostly for me,
But also, for you.

The answer’s clear
But the path is not.
It’s filled with landmines and roadblocks.
A lot

Of painful days are spent
Just crawling across
This battlefield
Of love and loss.