To Trust A Burden False

Thoroughly, thoroughly -
Though lofty rains
And pointed sticks
Obscure our path -
We seek the highest ground
Under blue skies and black,
Dotted neither by stars
Nor by flight of birds.

Readily, readily -
Through blinding snows
And polished guns -
We stand before God,
Speaking true lies and smack,
Halted neither by weariness
Nor by putrid moor.

And under the violet sunset far,
We build a bonfire of rotted wood,
Pretending serenity stalks the night,
But knowing true what blocks my rest.

Heavily, heavily -
In joyous times
And extinguished flames -
We trust a burden false,
Making neither protest
Nor asking why.

Wearily, wearily -
Down ragged slopes,
Through horrid bogs -
We put to rest a wretched past,
Thinking neither of morning
Nor future's lust.

But at night we beg for mercy's touch,
To somehow cleanse our trodden paths,
Believing somehow we must relent
That we must live as we were led.

That we must live as He has led.

Copyright 2012 by Andrew T. Durham