There seems to be within the man,
A padlocked vault of vain resolve,
Of things unsaid, of half-done deeds-
The frozen fire of deep regret.
A withheld expression of response
The felt detour to better routes
A looked for liaison, unmet-
A silent grimace of distress.
An ardent feeling, not expressed,
Of standing up for what is right
A willing start of something new
The roadblock to a different way.
The frozen fire, that burns within,
When feelings remain inside hid
That silent consumer of the soul-
Burns even hotter, at repressed love.
(Leonard N. Shapiro, 2020)
-p.
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