Leaving the Capitals

Fear not the voices of men.
Draw their words on your back
Carry them above all
To speak again, blue tongued.

Not my hand will be taken
Neither will I rest on our sons
My teeth will stay here in the ground
Floating, like dimming lights.

Caught in the dark
Caught in the past
This near black past
This near black heart.

I am not what's left behind
You are not what's still to come
It hides in both of us.
Willing to emerge.