My hands burn from the beating
And still they strike
This is the happiest pain I know.
I will cheer your harshest villain
And mourn each of your last breaths
And I will remember us for you.
For you are a spark of light:
You do not assume greatness
But now that it is dark,
The people are noticing.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The Circle by Henrietta Pearce )
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