To Rise Above

Were I a better man, revealed,
might I bear the weight of sorrow
without constraint of its thorns;
that, in my grasp, unburdened,
should this weight be wrought
against the steel of my breast;
then, ardently, clench my hands
to cast out all harbingers of woe;
and, in the same grasp, martyred,
shed the fragile veil of my heart;
and as I may be a child of sorrow,
let its mettle forge ageless wings,
that I may rise in glorious ascent.