by Nakka (11/1/03)

this poem is not dedicated helping hands,
smiles and laughter,
or happy times

this poem is not dedicated to men of faith
or men of honor--
nay, they've been praised enough

nay, this one is dedicated to the pall
that hangs over the sun,
testing its mettle

for any man, uncontested,
can win

this one's to you, the ones I hate to love
yet still, I must acknowledge

this one's for those who are a taint on the earth
the ones whose hearts and souls are black

this one's for those who would lie and deceive,
bully and banter,
slit throats and slander
who would love to see us in ruins

the evil in you
stirs the demons in our souls
and when the times are rough
will we have the strength to still stand tall?

can we resist you
and still maintain who we are,
what we stand for?

love is a nice thing--
will it endure?

honor we uphold--
will it stay pure?

faith is not proven
until it's not easy

and friendship and kinship--
their bonds are the strongest when truly tested

so hurt us, harm us, unmock us, destroy us
unravel us, unsettle us, slander and kill us
with my words to you, I beseech:
show us our mettle

for if we cannot stand amidst you, the storms,
then perhaps we were not so great after all

so teach us who we are:
for you among all others
show us our own true colors