Poetic Interlude XXIII

I will carry it for you as long as you need -

That heavy, cast-iron grief.

Like I used to carry five-gallon buckets,

Two at a time and overfilled with whey mash.

Look at me laugh, look!

I have two free hands, strong arms,

The lightest heart you'll ever hear in song.

The buckets used to make my fingers sore -

I'm older now, I'll wear it like a scarf,

This grief you've hidden from the world.

I will carry anything you cannot bear alone,

Help shoulder one corner, or side, or leg.

Can I convince you that I am whole enough?

Enough for you to trust in outstretched hands?

........................

I dare to openly disturb the universe

Which has so often moved aside for me.

I dare to say to it, "Now see,

I've found the thing that I desire first."

Damnation all aside, I cannot win:

The universe moved me beside of him.

........................

I feel what prompted those painters to craft figures

With fire screens or tapestries or basins

Unconsciously indicating sainthood.

The birthright of artists is to see through the world,

And pass into the other side, and return.