Friday, November 14, 2014

Numbers 27: In Writing

I bore the burden
In buttressed solid
Heavy, heady, down, crash
the mountain of the past            
that craters the crevice
in which you walk.

How can I convey you
through storms that buffet all flesh?
How can I carry you
in weighty hands weary?
How will I bear you
over weeping waters?

Look up, I brace the sky
bowed beneath
your bulking being
Now I scale the hills past
pitted quarries
unfilled, fulfilled, fleeting

in a ghost of glory

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