Before The Cyclone Poem by J.M Berger

It's Cinco de Mayo, cowgirl.
And what've we to show?
We think we act so tough
But we do it all alone.
We stand as still as stone,
Waiting for some sort of answer.
Amazing how we can do so little
And still be panting...

'Cause we ain't strong no more.
Maybe we never were.
Our armor was a confidence we never really had.
Our battle cry was a lie,
And the horse we rode in on was euthanized.
Let's face it,
We got complacent:
Used to life in the absence of bravery.
What's past has passed,
We can't erase it.

If we could hide,
We'd hide.
But the sunlight reveals us
As dark figures,
So reviled.
Unique, but reviled by ourselves.
And this river is a mirror:
This river of our lives.
The lives we were thrown into against our will.
We nearly drowned, are maybe drowning still.
But until they pull us up unconscious,
Then we still have a chance,
A twinkle in our watery eyes,
Of fighting the crushing tide.