To be in the mist of ugliness
could I have what I'd need to get out?

If attacked by enemies more sly than me,
would righteousness see a day to shout?

For if I stand tall, and call mine my own.
what would be the backbone, upholding the throne?

Will I find courage in all I've survived?
Or seek help from my being, that's kept me alive?

Could my armor be charity, or truth at best,
or is not to wonder how, to pass this test?

Or perhaps it's not wondering any of those,
but only to feel now, in the sweetest repose?

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