The sun beating heavily on our heads, we felt
the agony of things straining against themselves,
felt the longing but not the reward and grew
weary of the day.
When I spoke, it was gravel in my throat.
“Show me,” I demanded, “the length of these days.
Show me the end.” And the sun
did not relent in its frenzied beaming
while the aching rhythm in my joints was murmuring,
“Soon. His time is soon.”