Leaving The Capitals

Fear not the voices of men.
 Draw their words on your back
 Carry them above all
 To speak again, blue tongued.

 Not my hand will be taken
 Neither will I rest on our sons
 My teeth will stay here in the ground
 Floating, like dimming lights.

 Caught in the dark
 Caught in the past
 This near black past
 This near black heart.

 I am not what is left behind
 You are not what's still to come
 It hides in both of us
 Willing to emerge.