Hard earth against them,
they stubbornly scramble,
leaving behind the struggle,
faces streaked with
poverty, setting jaws
like flint against the scratch
and spark of the world’s
grasping flame, taking
all hurtful steps, they
stand straighter for it
in the end,
all the insults woven
into a carpet, then thrown
out the window,
starting halfway down,
they rise way up.
