(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Bridled

Bridled on roads no longer disturbing.
With a weakened back patched...
From shoulders hunched,
And freed of carrying ancestral anger launched.

I am my own strong buck and steed.
On a tight lipped mission,
I understand and that is all I need!

As I move against the grain...
Others follow with lightened loads.
I look for no safe haven to rest.
None there ever showed!

My mission is explicit.
One sometimes I wished away.
But I have accepted,
Without regret on my path...
Certain 'gifts' I must deliver,
Without hesitation or doubts that last.

And 'why' is this?
I do not ask!
My task is to accomplish.
Whether or not tears fall or I bleed.
To look forward on my journey here,
And not what others do...
Or what I've done in my past,
The one I leave behind me fast!

Looking ahead I must...
With a trust that I grasp!
To make myself and my Master pleased.
And to breathe without sighing or grieving...
At last!

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