Marooned,

stranded,

isolated,

he turns his shame upon himself.

Choice builds habit,

cube by cube,

erecting frozen walls

which become too slippery to surmount.

Had he raised his head

or his voice,

he would have found that

iceland is

littered with those

marooned,

stranded,

isolated.

But not one of them

raised a head

or a voice,

so the ice

was never

broken…