Saturday, 21 January 2017

The Yoke...



A yoke of worry

Presses against my shoulders

As burdensome a weight

As sea soaked sand

Each grain a vessel

Bloated with my troubles

Each step I take

Pulling me closer

Towards the ground

And should I fall

I fear I will not rise again

Solely for the lack

Of a helping hand

Yet were it offered

I doubt that I would take it

What use the gesture

If not the care to understand

Perhaps

If I surrender tthe pressure

Of the weighted sandbags

Swollen with my woes

And allow the gritty contents

To consume me

I would find release

Within death's throes

Or better I should stand

Against such hardship

Refusing to succumb to my life's trials

And free myself of all

That would devour me

By removing sorrows

One grain at a time.



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

2 comments:

  1. The grit & guts of life's determination. Being beyond the bastards that try to grind

    Emlyn

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