Terza Rima.

Like sullen tide we march on break of day
With lungs of black blood stone and ice on wind
Forget the half-shamed words of those who stay

A vapor, steam, that rises from the skinned
And tortured through a night of red hot steel
A vapor, steam, that lifts us up, the sinned

Or sinner from another day, we reel
To hear our names come chanting down the hill
Their weight and shame and hatred that we feel

But risen by what might, what strength of will?
What pride do we have left in bitter nights?
When time and tide have halted and are still?

In bitter cold and darkness we have light
That burns for us, in darkness we have light