I am not who I was
yet return along the fired tracks
failing in the same pursuits and persuasions.
I once thought things could change
and will again fish in barren waters
stir small pools of doubt in enemy territories,
be convinced by my own righteousness.
May I better cloak injury at least.
This work is no worse than much that could be done.
Is this what I was for?
May there be a delicate equilibrium between
the fighter and the fought.
But truly the work
was whatever haphazardly
or beyond
that tugged me
and is still driven towards
noting the miraculous
or seething when others fail
to do or see anything about it.
And all that can be done
is a small part of what we all must do.
I want to say: ‘I did what I could’.
And the burning remains.