You are beautifully poor.
You are humbly everything.
Naked against the sawgrass,
You tamed the untamed path of modesty
yet still found bridges to burn.

You unmasked vigilante of ink and tears,

You superhero.

You shine stupid
and keep the brilliance in reserve.

I bet you keep the riches hidden as well,
saving them to cover the funeral
and provide for your (forever?) unborn.

Would they care about the weather?

The artillery shells?

You left them words to occupy their concerns,
and they will thank you.