Listen to poem:
Our Claim to Fame
Written: September 04, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
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Death approaches, yes—
But we do not recoil.
We stand, not wan, but strong,
a flexible group of iconoclasts
who shine in the shadows
of eternity’s silent hush.
Let the deceitful chatter,
let the careless souls soothe their dread
with hackneyed prayers and ugly regrets.
We extemporize our eulogies
with miraculous zeal,
our throes a zeugma of pain and pride.
We are the svelte sojourners,
rakish in our riparian grace,
vivacious in the face of the pyre.
Our desire is not for effortless solutions,
but for the beauty of truth—
even when it highlights our flaws.
When God questions us,
We will not gaze into katabatic abyssal
nor lazily plead for reprieve.
We will speak in many tongues,
if need be—
a blend of every soul we have ever been.
Our claim to fame is not conquest,
But the seraphic refusal to flinch.
We are the summary of our scars,
the quintessence of our quiddity,
the panoply of every Petrichor
that ever made us weep and rise.
So let the maelstrom come.
We are agog with grace.
We are the squalor and the sapidity.
We are the pulsing, zoetic nexus
between the pyrrhic and the divine.
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