it ain't got no title, just read.

Straw pile
on the curve of my back,
on my knees
begging Master
for reprieve;
passing through
the eye of the needle,
heavy burdens in tow.

Reapers of the world
stare as i crawl
and they sneer as each place
a single strand of straw
on the curve of my back.
Teary eyed, pain radiates
from my spine,
Peripheral nervous system
sends SOS
to the rest of me,
Please, yell "No More!".

And then i see YOUR face,
twisted grin,
your tears of pain
streaming down from your eyes,
and you place
the last straw,
domino effect
of my back
as each bone
collapses,
and the pressure,
the disapproval,
the disdain
flattens me.

Now I am buried
Under the straw I carried,
I see you and
the burden you have
turn away from me
and you mutter
"Strength in the Lord?
Foolishness.
I have broken her."
Your indifference uncovered
the transference.
Straws began to
collect on your spine
as the tingling
in my fingers
dissipates.

Little do you know,
the strength I have
is not measured by
the weight on my back,
the power of my tongue nor
the wits I possess, rather
the love of God.
Within lies
incomparable strength,
as even though
the million straws I carry
have shattered my spine,
my heart still beats,
loves,
and triumphs
over any straw in my load.