Push On

A wave of heat

sweltering and overwhelming

beats down

on the back of his neck

like the crack of a whip

the heat snaps,

blistering

welting,

frying.

 

But he pushes on.

 

The reddest shade of pink

is the punished skin

of the man determined

to finish what he started.

 

But he pushes on.

 

There is work to do.

The fields yield very little

but very little is better than none.

He can take

the pain,

the suffering,

the bruises,

the bumps,

the burns,

the torture.

 

If it means

he can come home

kiss his wife

his children

be loved

for one more day

he’ll do it

again and again

forever.

 

So he pushes on.

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s