The non-terrors are full wonders.
To mold the water and the dripping faucet
Must be to carve my future from the stone.
I can discover what rages within—
Push it down beneath my bones and skin.
Fill up for yourself peace at my persistence,
Knowing I must resolve my own heart.
Out there in the distance—
I can feel more than anyone else.
The rising fire of past things lost to us
Will be, I promise, the worst of our heartache.
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 23.