“Gradually her raiment becomes threadbare. Slowly she loses form. Stealthy the turbulence awakens.”
– Thompson Emate
You let go and trouble me,
You don’t care because you can’t see,
I carry your refuse,
All the things you don’t use.
I’m saddled and burdened,
As time progresses, my pains worsen,
I’m scarred and marred,
I’m falling apart.
What happens when I lose my sight?
What happens when I ease into the night?
Who will shield you from the ills of the sky?
Who will protect you from the troubles on high?
Come to my rescue,
Before I become a shadow,
Reach out and aid me,
Before all you see is a shrivelled meadow.