God might be willing. Indeed, the creek could rise. And you may choose to flee. But let’s face it. I’m left holding a bag No one carries on their own. Besides, it’s just too damn heavy For me to handle now— What with the weights You’ve packed tightly inside. Hernia-wise, it’s a pain I wish I didn’t endure At this time of life. However, if need be, I’ll shoulder it a bit longer, Until someone, righteous enough, Consents to harness the load, Bear the curious burden, As though it’s a rite of passage. Yes, it’ll happen some morning. They’ll come a knock on my door. The hinge will swing wide open. And a Samaritan shall appear, Waiting to set me free.
Bart Edelman’s (he/him) poetry collections include Crossing the Hackensack (Prometheus Press), Under Damaris’ Dress (Lightning Publications), The Alphabet of Love (Red Hen Press), The Gentle Man (Red Hen Press), The Last Mojito (Red Hen Press), The Geographer’s Wife (Red Hen Press), Whistling to Trick the Wind (Meadowlark Press), and This Body Is Never at Rest: New and Selected Poems 1993 – 2023 (Meadowlark Press). Most recently, he has taught in the MFA program at Antioch University, Los Angeles. His work has been anthologized in textbooks published by City Lights Books, Longman, McGraw-Hill, Prentice Hall, the University of Iowa Press, Wadsworth, and others. He lives in Pasadena, California.
