Yoked

The yoke is heavy,

I’m bowed and bent

from the strain.

 

Pain shoots like hot knives

through my shoulders,

as I raise my head

to gaze into the hazy distance.

 

How much farther must I travel,

before I set this burden down?

 

I cannot rest, nor tarry,

but continue on~

head down,

eyes upon the road.

 

Where does it lead?

How much farther must I travel?

When can I let this burden go?

© annettealaine-2013
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