It took time, but I dug up that heart-choking chain;
With strangled strength, I rip-tore it from hardened earth,
Long-buried beneath our compacted clay of pain.
On e’ery guttural grip, I tried each link’s worth;
Hand-o’er-hand, I drew, by knee through torn terrain,
Until I pulled up hard on its bitterwood berth—
One herculean heave: shards fell like clanging rain.
Poetry: Equum Spem