19 of 76

by Ross Crockett

They are the strongest
And most fragile of us all
Going where we could not
Living how we can't imagine
Castles and graveyards of sand
Winds of razor-keen detritus
Sculpting soft bodies
Into guardians of wood, ever watchful

Cold empty eyes stare
For miles into worlds unknown
That terrify our souls
Men of glass, boys of home
Buried beneath the green
Now steeled for a blow
That is ever invisible
And always waiting to kill

So when they returned
From the long way back
I searched those eyes
For the friends I'd sent on
But the children weren't there
The boys had grown up
The glass men were broken
And the cold eyes pleaded for hope

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Poetry: Heroes

by Ross Crockett

Poetry: Heroes

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