Survivor

Taut, stretched tight on tiptoe,
trying to hold life's circles aloft, above
and around and behind my stringent body
throbbing with heartbeats stolen from
invaders' grasps, their unholy fingerprints.
Friends praise my poise, my strength,
enemies aim weapons for target practice.
I dare not glance down to bloodied waters
swirling fetid at my feet, over the lip of hell.
I must not see my body zither, my life quiver
from all I suffered then, by his hands, by all
I've suffer now revamped devils have returned,
emerged from nightmares into daylight.
I look to the sky, muscles tense, mind
disciplined: I will turn bloodied lakes to water,
clear enough for children, born in pain, to drink.