arrière-pensée
once more,
the dark coat,
it’s pockets
full of sand
and stone
slips over me
this relentless,
pursuing thing
the one I
have put on
and cast off
again,
and again,
and again.
its familiar weight
covering me in
shadows
so I labor once again
under
the weight of celestial spheres,
a Titan bowed,
bent,
pressed down
longing not to falter
I push on
beneath this crushing cloak
bearing the weight
of
shadow and fog,
slogging that
noxious mire
silently beseeching,
an unknown spirit for her favor, pleading
that somewhere, just ahead,
this wretched thing
that makes my
neck ache,
and
my shoulders crack
and the hands of my soul
bleed
might fall away;
that once more
I might suck in
that cool,
fresh air of assurance,
that I could exult
unbowed,
to stand erect
upon solid ground
redeemed from
this endless labor,
from distress
and dismay,
and wipe my brow
of the dirt
and sweat that stings
my eyes
and
soils my soul
this burden set down,
finally forgotten,
left behind to whither
and rot
in the desert Sun, the blowing wind and
storming clouds.