A Porter's Burden Poem by Aaryan Irani

Trenched scars,
festering wounds,
with each drop of blood
agony blooms.

From the very trough
to the summit yonder,
the ice capped mountain
does not ponder
over the cranking bones
and leaking cries
or the greaseless spine
of the mute porter.

And yet the burden does
remain his for eternity,
Till his last breath
Whispers under the weight of his agony.

The moon, earth and stars
watch him cripple under
the might of cold stone and wooden bars,
for his burden was his;
and shall be for eternity.

They stood there, watching
as the sky washed out.
One moment, the porter they grieved,
the other, all was lost to time.