Not Enough Arms, Not Enough Shoulders

Not enough cups of coffee

to keep winding this long tired way.

One foot in front of the other

With others up front, behind and beside.

And their steps are heavier,

each plodding pace a quiet plea for help.

And thus

the packs of so many pilgrim Christians

passed over and onto–

the shift of bulky worries, leaden fears and granite sorrows.

You can’t say ‘No’, your own load’s too light

yet somehow the packs need one shoulder each;

when the packs number 3, 4 and 5

whence comes the third fourth fifth nest?

Might carry them in hand for a short while,

but who has the strength for that?

Your back already aches without elbows twitching.

And besides, my own pack is being dragged in the dirt!

It’s then Jesus himself gives me a little wagon

with even axles, smooth wheels

and a handle just right,

emblazoned simply, ‘Me’.


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