The Wheel II

The wheel goes round
I put my shoulder to it
and heave
I sweat and walk, sweat
and walk, rest and
start again

all the while I am
aware of arrows
bouncing off the metal
or screaming past
my ear - nearby

thump and thud of
missiles thrown - my
arms are scratched
and fingers worn

the wheel goes round
I put my shoulder
to it and my heart
is loud, often

my face is wet
and eyes sore, can't
see through the 
veil, the rain

and I have to start
again regardless of
how tired I am
how worn

see me here, straining,
pity me my loss,
pity me the road
pity me the huge
wheel turning that
dwarfs me - I take
the strain, see

the forward terrain
where energy dries
tears are gone
and I fall

where the wind will
stir my hair

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