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.