Beam

The fact that I felt even an ounce of doubt

worming its way through my guts, the fact

that I wanted to protest, but out of fear could not,

meant that I was weaker than the rest

who all hung, perfectly content

within their dense silence just like insects 
suspended motionless in amber.

At least no one could call them inconsistent.

It mattered not that their stoic bravery,

however unwavering, was buttressed

not by some heroic act of strength but

by planks of stubbornness and ignorance.

I must not be forgiven for my silence.

I looked on with the rest as that weight twisted

and felt my brittle spine reduced to splinters.