Poem 2, National Poetry Month: “How heavy these hands…”

How heavy these hands felt
when I held them up, raw-scraped, empty.

I had hauled in every heavy log to burn
at the feet of the unknown god

and they were water-logged
which made them even heavier,

and put out my back to boot.
I had just collapsed onto the temple floor

when a tap on my shoulder turned
my face to see how it was just you,

whom I know. And you said,
“I’m glad you’re here.”

    • hisfirefly
    • April 2nd, 2014

    happy to find you, fellow wordsmith

      • clbeyer
      • April 2nd, 2014

      Thank you! I was happy to find you, too.

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