Often, I feel like a small broken man,
Crawling on my belly through dirt and mud
in a world that would have me crawl lower
to satisfy some perverse sense of joy
that I should even dare to try to do
more than survive without permission.
As a young boy, a fire raged within
for the dreams and triumphs I was to have.
But that fire dimmed the older I grew
with the world pushing me down with its heel-
Now, my youth has fled from me like a dream
of which I remember small glimpses
and I can’t help but wonder what happened,
where did I go off the envisioned path
and let slip the dreams of fame and glory?
In the end, it is neither here nor there,
as it does no good to dwell on regret;
that regret of letting that fire snuff out.
As I struggle now, to provide a life-
not merely existence, but a real life-
to my Family, I can feel a ghost…
the ghost of the man that I meant to be.
Within me now a furious ember
glows bright and lashes out in its fury
to reignite that old forgotten flame
of pride and purpose that fueled the vision
of me standing firmly against the world
proudly resisting, not even to bow.
I greet it warmly, as a dear old friend,
I curse the crawling, and bring my knee up,
to push myself up, a firm thought in mind:
even if it is seen as a last stand,
then the world will still see me as standing.
© Jeremy L. Heath, 2025. All rights reserved.
