It is in the blood of the soldier
In the words of the peaceful protester
In the ever flowing wounds of the martyr

In the actions of one standing against tyranny
In the hope of one facing down the majority
In the one who fights for the right of diversity

It is the one who heals when everyone is wounding
The one who stands when everyone is breaking
The one who accepted steel in his flesh
for the soul of his beloved
The one who carried the weight
Of our deaths on his back
The one who loved us till he breathed his last.

Your words are warm
but there's a sense
of coldness, clearness
between us.

We're frozen shut;
both world-weary
holding each other's
icicle hands

unable to thaw
but freeze together
a blanket of frost
between us.