She stood at the valley’s bottom, dwarfed by immense hills;
Her haunts stifling her.
She began to ascend, the steep reed like hills
Risking life and limb,
All time was lost, as she scaled the slippery slopes –
Many moons waxed and
Many moons waned
Many seasons grew and
Many seasons withered.
She clambered the hills inexorably,
The affliction of her guilt,
Impelled her to climb higher and higher,
Till every strand of flesh withered away.
On a warm, sunny day, many years away
Under endless azure skies
Her arduous labor ceased.
She arrived at the crest,
Crumbled on green mossy ground,
A bundle of weary, blanched bones
With a heart so brittle and porous –
That it could retain no mirth,
But beat relentlessly, as if in penitence.
Travail I ← Previous