When you are weary,
like one gone far into the unknown,
the unsung–the un-gloried pitches of
black and mauve, that stick like
burrs, in the back of your arms...
Which worked so well but yesterday
before you stopped, and came home.
Sit heavy on the steps that so recently,
years ago held steady
for your bandaged feet to push and
kick, and find wandering.
So you can laugh today asking
Who of us deserves the bandages now?
but know down deep that now
you need them more than ever.
When weariness meets fleet feet
years-hardened from finding trouble-sought
everything but you seems so...
soft.
When your heart is weary,
there is no switch to turn it off.
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