Burden

broken and discordant with a fistful of fears

will the fabric of the noose begin to unravel

before all of the air is crushed from us?

Silence is on the ballot to the union

twist our intentions a little further

the wind tends to murmur little secrets

that caress your mind but are never truly comprehended

antiquated and rusted the tools in the barn forgotten

the crops are dead

the fields are dust

and still we pray for rain

focus on the sun and hope we don’t burn

I would carry your burden

if I wasn’t dragging mine