An after poem

After they drove away their chariots
I stole a suit of armor
Now the armor wears me

It wears me down
I fall to my knees
My weary knees bleed

No flood is enemy to bold blood
Shields against wild wind
The chariots crash like a waterfall

Each dawn is a denial while the city sleeps
I should escape to some frozen wasteland
and think of running fast .

If we don’t freeze