This is a work in progress…
———-
minutes brimming empty
where wandering thoughts
arrest a scattered spirit
and deposit a soul ill at ease

the overflow speaks, sputters
out from crumpled hearts
to fall misshapen on top
the ground, mud-covered

a lone wilted, weary traveler
dumps heavy burdens of cold stone
alongside hearts mistaken
for quiet love and mercy tender

an inclined ear to pity’s plea
awake and tend the battle
a wise one must in wartime make
a firm stand for what most matters