Footing

The storm surge

At once a far-off rumble

Growing as it rushes

In and against

The levees

Cracks forming

Water trickling through

A precursor to the break

Forcing me to answer

Again

How much can I take?

Yet the still small

Voice answers

Just louder than before

Built on the past

A growth of confidence

Bought by lessons learned

You won’t turn from this

And as you carry my yoke

Neither will I

On the tail of your draft

I will fly