Give It All To Him



GIVE IT ALL TO HIM

She looks at the bag on the ground between her feet
More tired than she can remember being in her life.
Her mind drifts back to when life was once sweet,
Before she was an adult, a mother, or a wife.

Too tired to carry the trash around with her any longer
She gathers her remaining strength to make it home to rest.
She wishes she were younger, or smarter, or stronger,
Wonders why the Lord above has given her this test.

A cab pulls to the curb and the back door swings wide,
She sees the passenger struggle with a full bag of his own.
He heaves and fights and tugs on the things that are inside
Swearing he does not know how the damned thing has grown.

She shifts her tired feet, and the bag shifts to a tilt
More burdensome than she could ever have imagined.
It is full of regret, shame, anger, fear, jealousy and guilt
Each of these the result of every life's bilious pageant.

The man slams the cab's door, and curses the snow,
Lumbers his bag up and onto the street-side curb.
The cab pulls away and as she watches it drive away slow,
She sees the cabbie with two bags of his own get disturbed.

Does everyone have a bag of garbage they haul around?
Is it life's mandate that your trash be your constant weight?
Must each soul to its torments be hopelessly bound?
Is it forever mankind's lot to self-recriminate?

“The answer to all of those questions is no.”
Says a voice for which she can not find a source.
She appears quite alone, and tries a timorous “Hello?”
When she feel enveloped in a warm loving force.

Her breath hitches once or twice, and her eyes get teary
She breathes, “Lord?” and she hopes for the best.
She hears “Come to me, all you who are weary
And burdened, and I will give you rest”.

“But I am a sinner, Lord, unworthy of your Grace or Love,
Why would you want an old dog like me?” she implores.
“It is for you and those like you that I am most proud of
Those who accept My heart, My heart adores.

So she folds the garbage bag, which is now empty, in half,
And tucks it away, out of the refreshing spring rain.
She jumps lightly to her feet with a girlish laugh
And feels freedom from her burdens once again.


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This poem appeared in "Breathing for Clouds" available from Big Table Publishing.
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©2009 Christopher Reilley
 
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