“Head held high”

Head held high, I walk the street,  
Sun slicing gold through clouds of sleet,  
Shoulders drawn, no backward glance,  
Each footfall dares the world—advance.

Wind may whip the dreams I wear,  
Doubt may circle soft as air,  
Yet in every stride I hold—  
Stories brave, and hopes untold.

Strangers watch with curious eyes,  
Some with kindness, some disguise;  
But I meet their gazes true,  
For I know what I must do.

Not made of steel, nor born for fight,  
Yet in the hush of coming night,  
My chin remembers how to climb—  
To find the stars, time after time.

So laugh or scoff, or join along—  
The world may hush, or lift my song—  
But still I rise, my purpose nigh,  
With open heart and head held high.

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