Shadowed Reality

Tension rides my shoulders

day after day.

Get off of me, I shout,

but the weight becomes heavier

as if carrying sandbags,

like saddle bags of ponderous distress.

Tense and world-weary

I don't want to be,

but it rides me like a jockey,

whipping me and kicking me.

My lungs suck air like

a hard-ridden pony treated

cruelly, bleeding from metal spurs

cutting through me..

I'm bucking, but not hard enough, it seems.

My muscles are tight from the fight,

heart full of hope, trying to overcome

the mendacious and pernicious bog

covering the world;

reality shadowed in a fog of

uncertainty, watching standards crumble while

protections fail.

it cannot be to no avail

- can it?

Copyright © 2/25/2025 by Andrea O. Corwin

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