Not a Step Back

The cold has returned
to bite at windows and doors.

Footsteps have slowed, and
bodies turn toward wind.

Steep walls echo with the
fragile voices as they howl,

against the dying light,
stubborn winter flowers.

The streets are ablaze with
people carrying their anger,

pressed to their limits
on the cold concrete slabs.

A ragged army cries out
a call for no more.

The cold has returned
to bite at windows and doors.

not-a-step-back

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