Every afternoon
when my shame
has not driven me
to violence

I am triumphant

says the thin boy in black

...
When the roaring applause
erupts and the audience
is leaping to their feet
I motion to my orchestra

and I am glory

says the conductor

...
In the sultry
summer night
when my lover screams
in ecstasy
burying my brow
into her neck

I am euphoric

says the man
who is heroically in love

...
Decades from now
when my people return
to speak my language
to sing my songs
and tell my story

I will be triumphant

says the tattered flag
fluttering above the rubble

...
When I have survived
another day in the face
of this strange and
vast despair

I am victorious

says the orphaned baby
in the metal crib

...
When this generation
has not killed me
and my rivers still flow
and the soil still brings life
and there are still seasons

I will be glory itself

says the Earth who breathes
beneath our feet.

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