We Will Survive it All

A Year of Sonnets — 006/365

Photo by Cynthia Magana on Unsplash

for A.

I will not say the years have worn me well
nor that I am some paragon of joy
but I’ve survived, my chest has borne the hell
of every hurt you sing: a bright-eyed boy
who grew through granite ground to secret grief,
his heart an open wound — now scarred to naught
and shattered, forced to question each belief
whereon he build his life; take happy…