He carries the world on his back,
On his shoulders.
Or is he carrying me?
My body on his,
My troubles weighing him down,
My bluster and disappointments,
My fakery and missteps pressing hard,
As he struggles up this hill.
Perhaps it’s a clutch of bodies,
He’s carrying,
As he struggles up this hill.
A community, a town,
A country, a continent,
It must have felt like that,
As he struggles on.
Up that hill, towards that brow of death,
He carries the planet, 
A string of planets,
A solar system,
A whole universe,
Every single last atom,
Every ounce of energy.
As he struggles up this hill,
He carries me, he carries you,
He carries those we love,
And those we don’t yet know,
He carries his cross.

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