I Find no PriceTag

I Find no PriceTag

(“You know how full of love and kindness our Lord Jesus was: though he was so very rich, yet to help you he became so very poor, so that by being poor he could make you rich.” 2 Corinthians 8:9)

What is this pain dropped upon me,
a pack breaking my neck and twisting my back
that never lessens. No one adds to its weight
over time,
but the same burden carried hours and miles
over mountains of days and plateaus of hours,
unchanging terrain, my feet hang like anvils over
the edge of each mornings bed on waking.

And yet I know the destination, unseen today
through the blinding squeeze,
some well-photographed travelogue sent
back from beyond, waits. No, I am the one who

Waits.

The destination exists now, at the end;
and how far the hike when one day’s trek
is an hour of blindfold darkness and turning
around
I see exactly where I began. Each day,
the end less than inches from the start.

The milliseconds I have to reflect,
I know the pain of the Beloved was fire
fiercely ignited,
void of light or dark, presence or absence;
beyond my worst day and deeper than the
cliffs of agony I slip upon in heat or noise.

I know there is a Passion that has covered
the bloodshot crawl I call my walking,
where I used to run, my feet lie aching tomorrow.

Pay my way, I can find no pricetag to defray the cost,
and am lost so close to home. I would come now if
You would grant it; I have no energy to panic.