Over me
          overwhelming
but from its end-
impartial.

Alone, we are so many things
between beginning and ending
together, we are absolute horror.

From my end;
down here,
almost close enough-
the bridge between us
is devastatingly indecisive.

From its end;
hanging there,
it remains stoic-
                  impartial.

The weight is all on me,
until at last it is not,
gifted above;
for we are nothing unburdened.

             If I can no longer be
                        the warm support
                  that allows the muscles to cool,
                the bones to settle;
I’ll at least be the platform on
which to stand.
            High enough to hang their troubles
      and let them swing,
                as they did decades ago in a box of sand-
                      impartial.

Though kicked away;
                      discarded,
          I am satisfied to resign
                      having served well
in my time.