I am Trying to be Brave

I am trying to be brave.

To raise the walls of a crumbled city, shrouded in ash and an age-old grief which beckons a crimson colored sky.

I am trying to be brave.

When my steps falter and the heart which resides within my chest weighs heavy and every movement feels like moving lead in black waters.

For feather by feather to carry my woes far and away from all that has weathered it down as time goes on, and wings exhale their loads in some desolate place where you'll never find reason to worry about such ever again.

I am trying to be brave.

To remind a feral thing that teeth and hatred fuel empty things. Only pressing onward unkind intentions in mass amounts of loss and suffering.

For some far away crowd of knighted souls to gather and fight the good fight, come what may.

Come rich or poor, come weary elder or young passionate leader.

I am trying to be brave.

To rekindle the appetite for life, that I have long been without.

For savory things to color my palette, for a young life to not seem as muted.

I am trying to be brave.

When courage tucks tail and the thundering roar once capable of sinking predatory teeth into a velvet sky.

When that roar merely

becomes a whimper, a mere squeak of fear,

reduced to a racing heartbeat   

                and heaving sobs.

I am here.

Wounded in my endeavors.

Alas,

I am trying to,

          be brave.