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From Sisyphus: My Stone

Sisyphus speaking to the stars about his plight



This stone is more than stone,

more than weight against my arms,

my shoulders,

my neck--

more than a stone

my legs must shove,

my hands must grasp,

my lungs must grunt into--

more than a moan

inside my soul

that comes from knowing

there is no escape from where I am,

from who I am.

This is the burden of my being here,

this knowing that my place

beneath the stars

means endless work,

means looking out into the universe

of moons and suns

in the death-like silence of each starry night,

remembering yesterday

has brought me to this day,

this night,

this strain to take another step

up this steep hill,

another breath that says

I’m here,

holding what I bear.

This stone is life,

my body,

my mind.

It belongs to me

like skin and sweat.

It’s what I think

and what I fear to think.

It’s what I know

and what I do not know.

It’s what I hate and love

and groan against

and lean my beating heart into.

This stone is all I have to share with you,

dear stars.

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